What is Love?
by MirandNack
Summary: Draco Malfoy's 6th year at Hogwarts is filled with seemingly impossible tasks. His mission leads him to question all he's ever known and to lose himself to anger and depression. But with the help of a pesky mudblood, could things work out after all?
1. If We Could Just Support Each Other

**Please Notice ~ This story is under construction. The revised version will be uploaded as a new story soon(ish).**

The weak morning light hit Draco Malfoy in a way that made his pale skin look nearly translucent. He sat alone at the dining table, a grand thing that could seat 16 people comfortably, and mindlessly stirred some sugar into his cold tea. He'd been sitting there for the better part of the morning, stirring and staring out of the tall windows that surrounded him. This room always made him feel alone, but then again so did every room of the huge, cavernous manor. This room was his favorite because his parents never bothered to look for him in it.

"Master Draco, Master Lucius is searching for you." Draco was dragged from his brooding thoughts by the new house elf, who was much less annoying then the previous Dobby.

With a huge stretch that unfolded his long, narrow body, Draco stood to his feet and sighed. "Right, where is he?" he asked the elf. "The parlor," the elf replied with a bow that was rewarded with a swift kick from his master.

Draco found his father pacing in front of the lit fireplace, anger flashing in his eyes.

"Draco where the hell have you been? I've searched everywhere for you!" Lucius demanded when he noticed Draco leaning against the door frame.

"I've been around." He stated nonchalantly with a shrug.

"You know that Thursdays are your lessons! It's nearly noon, we should have started over an hour ago!" Lucius snarled, grabbing Draco's upper arm and dragging him to the middle of the spacious room.

"I've raised the size of the animal, now that you achieved the rabbit." Lucius explained, as he closed the parlor door and raised a scrawny cat out of a box. Draco's knees weakened, but he fought to keep an indifferent expression on his smooth, pointed face. Last time he had refused, his father had shown him how it was done, with him as the victim.

As the cat stalked around the room, sniffing this and that, Draco raised he wand and whispered hoarsely, "Crucio." Immediately the creature began to howl and writhe on the floor, arching its back and clawing the air. Just as Draco lowered his wand, his mother came bursting in, a grin in her face. "Oh Draco! How lovely! You're an absolute natural!" She gushed as she wrapped his taller frame into her. She planted a kiss on his chin and said, "When the Dark Lord summons you, he'll be most pleased with your talent."

Draco nodded and muttered, "I still haven't mastered Avada Kedavra." In truth, Draco could very easily perform Avada Kedavra, but he wasn't willing to use it. His mother frowned and said, "Yes, well, you're only 16. There's plenty of time."

Draco left his parents in the parlor and began to wander back to the dining room, lost in his miserable thoughts. The cat had escaped the room and limped across his path. Dropping to one knee, Draco held out his hand, stretching his long, graceful fingers towards it causing it cower away from him.

"I just saved your life, you ungrateful animal!" Draco hissed as he stood up. He grabbed the cat before it ran away and changed the direction he was walking in. The cat struggled, but was too weak to do any harm, so Draco kept it cradled in one arm while he softly played with its fur with his free hand.

"You know, I wonder what it's like to be loved." Draco gave a start as realized what he'd said. Seeing as the cat gave no objections and was calming down to the sound of his drawling voice, he continued.

"I think mother loves me," he said with a nod, "but I think if I was a Hufflepuff or a Squib she would despise me. It's all very conditional, you see." The cat began to drift off and Draco plunged on. "Father is proud of me, I think. But that's not love. Honestly, I'm not really sure who I am. What do I like to do? Besides staring out windows I don't know. My father controls my whole bloody life!" Draco's voice became venomous as finished his sentence, frightening the cat awake again.

After a few moments of walking in silence, Draco reached his destination. The enormous, black double doors that led outside loomed in front of him. "Well here we are." Draco sighed. He pulled one of the doors open (it was a bit difficult because he only had one arm) and set the cat down in the grass. "There, that's twice I've saved your miserable life." He said, and the cat replied with a pitiful meow. Draco smirked and lightly nudged the cat's haunches with his foot. "Go on then," he murmured quietly, "Don't worry about me, I'll be OK."

After he watched the cat limp off, Draco felt oddly like he lost a friend. He scolded himself furiously for his emotion at a simple cat, and returned to his prison, thanking the heavens that school started soon.

**A/N:** Chapter title from Edward Gardner


	2. Our Wills and Fates so Contrary Run

"Are you all packed, dear?" Narcissa Malfoy asked her son at the dinner table. "I don't want to have to sent an owl like last year."

The three Malfoys were seated in their grand dinning room, eating dinner together. Draco hated seeing his parents in this room, the room that was usually his safe place, his asylum away from his duties. This scene only unfolded once a year, the night before Draco left for Hogwarts, and he hated it. To him it seemed like a celebratory feast for his parents in honor of his leaving.

"Yes. I packed yesterday." He mumbled. His father, Lucius, reached across the table for a roll, flashing Draco the dark mark on his forearm. It seemed like he was always finding an excuse to flaunt it around the house.

"Now, remember, if you desire to perform a curse or dangerous hex- which I hope you do at one point or another- be sure you DO NOT get caught! The last thing we need is for a Malfoy to be expelled." Lucius snorted as he took a bite from his roll. Suddenly, Draco dropped his fork and let out a slight gasp. His arm was burning!

Standing so abruptly that he spilled his pumpkin juice on his mother, Draco quickly excused himself and ran to the farthest bathroom. Once he locked himself in, He leaned his back against the door and slid down until he was sitting on the cold, tile floor.

_Oh please, please. I beg you, don't let it be... please anything but that!_ Draco shouted in his mind, not sure who or what he was praying to. Finally he summoned enough courage to roll up his sleeve and glance down.

"Shit." Draco whispered, his voice quavering. "Shit, shit _shit_!" He stood up and pulled his wand out of his pocket. Glass shattered, porcelain cracked, the walls were damaged unbelievably so, and Draco's heart was crushed. He fell to his knees in the middle of the disaster he created, and lifted his eyes to the ceiling, tears welling in his sad, young eyes.

"Why, why me?" He wailed, shoving the heals of his hands into his moist eyes.

On Draco Malfoy's right forearm, in the same spot his father's was, was an ink black skull with a serpent protruding out of it. The Dark Mark. The Dark Lord had called him.

* * *

The next morning Narcissa and Draco stood at King's Cross Station, waiting for the Hogwarts train to arrive. The night had been spent in the presence of his parents, Death Eaters, and to his terror, the Dark Lord himself. Draco had received his purpose from the Dark Lord, fix a wardrobe and kill Dumbledore, and he knew that he would do whatever was asked of him out of cowardice.

He felt like a shell of a man. He was exhausted and he'd made up his mind to stop thinking. Thinking was a luxury of children, and Draco was certainly not a child any more. There was no way he could perform his duties if he thought.

Narcissa fiddled with the collar of his muggle shirt and fussed with his sleek hair. "Why don't you smile any more, Draco, love? Hm?" She pouted at him after a while of silence. "I dare say I haven't seen you smile since... well it must have been your second year when your father got you a spot on the Quidditch team."

Draco pulled away and said distantly, "I grew up, mother."

If Narcissa has anything to say it was cut off by the sound of the Hogwarts Express pulling up to the crowed.

"Good bye, mother." Draco said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. He boarded the train, for the first time not ecstatic to arrive to its destination.

As the train left, Narcissa was left alone with the picture of her son's cold, hard eyes in her head, and his sharp scent around her.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter title is from Shakespeare


	3. Hatred is Inveterate Anger

**A/N: A very kind reviewer told me that Draco's last name is Mal_foy_, not Mal_froy_... How embarrassing! I'm new to this and haven't figured out to fix this mistake in the previous chapters so just pretend his last name is correct. Thanks for** **reading! **_~Finally figured out to fix it! All Malfroys are now Malfoys.  
_

**Disclaimer: JKR is the original mastermind.**

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Up on one of the upper levels of Hogwarts, Draco was pacing in front of a dreary, worn out Cabinet that stood like a wardrobe. He didn't understand, he had cast every spell and charm he could think of, and even some new ones he's discovered during his research, but the wardrobe refused to offer a reliable way of transportation. He threw his wand down in frustration and raked his shaking hands through his disheveled hair. He still had time, but how much?

He stood there, his tall frame slightly hunched, his long fingers grasping his light hair and let out a sob. The lives of his family rested on his shoulders, he knew that. If he failed to carry out the Dark Lord's commands...

"Stop crying!" he hissed angrily to himself, "You're not some foolish child!" Suddenly he was startled silent by the sound of the door opening and light footsteps coming closer. He straightened up and dried his face. How could someone else be here? It was the room of requirements!

He stooped down to pick up his wand just as Hermione Granger came around a large pile of chairs. She let out a startled gasp and took a step back. "Merlin, Malfoy! What are you doing here? You scared me!"

Draco sneered, trying to lower his heart rate from his earlier panic attack. "I was here first, Granger, so I should be asking you what you're doing here."

He saw her expression harden and she retorted, "I was looking for a place to... to momentarily remove something from unwanted attention. And stop pointing your wand at me!"

He snorted and tucked his wand away. "You mean you wanted to hide it. A prefect like you? Hiding something? My, my Granger, you've really let your self go."

Hermione tossed something under a mountain of parchment and pamphlets. "I don't have to explain myself to you, Malfoy!" She said, then looked around. "I thought I heard a sob when I walked in, is there anybody else in here?"

Draco stiffened, "Does it look like any one else is in here?" He said snidely, "And I sure as hell haven't been crying. Do I look like I've been 'Sobbing'? No, I do not." Hermione took in his hair that was sticking up where it was usually so slick, his red rimmed eyes that were framed with dark circles and his rumpled robes. In truth, it did look like he'd been crying, but that was the least upsetting thing about him. His stone grey eyes, usually glinting with mischief and hidden laughter (and in occasion, a spark of meanness), were cold, hard and angry. They were the eyes of grieving and lost soul.

When Hermione didn't say anything, Draco stalked up to her as if to challenge her to keep studying him. "If you don't mind, you can leave now. You've already hidden your... whatever." He said coldly. Hermione turned to leave, too irritated and troubled to reply sensibly.

"Oh, and don't forget to wipe down the door handle once you're out. I don't want my hands touching the surface that a mudblood's hand touched."

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter title from Marcus Cicero


	4. No Need for Good Souls

Draco lay in his bed, listening to the others snore softly. He let his left hand finger his right forearm mindlessly. He couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes horrible scenes unfolded behind his eyelids. In one scenario, he failed to kill Dumbledore and was forced to watch his parents suffer the Cruciatus Curse until they begged for an end and eventually clawed themselves into a bloody death. In other scenarios his mother cursed him for not performing his duties, yet in another one she cursed him for following through.

Usually if he couldn't sleep, Draco would research how to fix the wardrobe, but his eyes were too tired to focus on any written word.

Pretty soon the Syltherin dorms began to buzz with students getting dressed and washed for breakfast. Blaise Zabini walked up to Draco's bed and kicked it.

"Come on, then. You can't lie there forever!"

Draco sat up and shot a glare at him. "I can bloody well do whatever I please, Zabini. And if you kick my bed again I might be tempted to turn your leg into jelly."

Blaise just shrugged and tossed a towel at Draco. "I'd just get Granger or some Ravenclaw to un-jinx it. Seriously though, mate, you need to take a shower. Your hair looks like the home of a hundred doxies, and you smell wretched." Draco gave him a sarcastic fake laugh and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

In the great hall at breakfast Draco sat between Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, watching them eat with mild disgust. "Crabbe, if you stop to chew you might be able to actually taste it," he said with a snort that made Goyle choke with laughter. Draco was about to pin his next remark on Goyle when he felt a presence behind him. He turned around and looked up to find Professor Snape standing stiffly, his unwavering gaze piercing Draco's empty plate.

"Eat something. It's foolish to not eat while you're obviously not in good health," he said, then slowly turned and made his way up to the staff table.

"That was weird," Draco muttered as he picked a grape off of Crabbe's plate, and despite his protests, ate it.

"It's a stupid grape, Crabbe," he said irritably, "and besides, it wouldn't hurt if there was less food on your plate." He looked pointedly at Crabbe's thick torso.

"'Ey, Malfroy, can I copy your transfiguration homework? I didn't do mine," Goyle said through a mouthful of something green and slimy.

"Copy off of Zabini, I didn't do it. I was too busy with other things. More important things." Draco replied, suddenly coming to a great realization.

"But... you always do your homework. I-it keeps up the Malfoy name and such." Goyle stammered, shocked.

"Oh really? Thank you for informing me of my personal life, I had no idea. No, I have something I've been working on, and you two can help." Draco said as he stretched and looked around. "Hey! You three," He snapped his fingers at some second years sitting nearby, "Get lost. Yes, you too." After the younger kids had left, he leaned his head forward and Crabbe and Goyle followed suit. He explained in very simple, condensed terms what he was meant to do, leaving out the part about Dumbledore. "What I need you two to do is cover for me in classes, give the professors reasonable excuses for my absences and get the homework assignments for me. You two can handle that, right?" The two nodded solemnly, proud to be included. "Good." Draco practically purred. He popped another grape in his mouth, feeling a slight bit of hope. If Crabbe and Goyle could get him more time in the room of requirement, he might just be able to fix the wardrobe.

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**A/N:** Chapter title from Jean-Paul Sarte: "I have no need for good souls: an accomplice is what I wanted." **How'd I do with the Slytherins? This chapter is really just a set up chapter, from the next part on there's multiple romances, lots of blood, and tears. Yay! I'd love if you left a review with your opinions in it!**


	5. Nothing is More Intolerable

**A/N: This chapter was originally two, but I took the advice of a kind reviewer and decided to write longer chapters. This is the beginning of Dramione!**

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Later on that same day, Draco sat dozing in Transfiguration. Dozing, that is, until a wand slapped down on his desk, startling him so much that he fell out of his chair. As the class roared with laughter, (it was composed mostly of Gryffindors) Draco felt himself flush. He seated himself again and faced Professor McGonagall.

"Yes?" Draco asked her calmly.

"Is there a reason, Mr. Malfoy, that you think sleeping during one of my lessons is acceptable?" McGonagall asked, crossing her arms and looking down at him.

Draco pretended to think, "Why, yes! There is a reason. A couple, actually." He began to tick off each reason with his fingers. "Firstly, this class is horridly dull. Secondly, I'm dreadfully tired, you see. And lastly, when on earth are we going to use this rubbish in real life?"

McGonagall's mouth twitched with suppressed irritation. "Excellent question, Mr. Malfoy. Why don't you answer it in a 3,000 word essay due at the end of the week. Also, seeing as you disrupted my class and received a 'T' on your last exam, you have detention here every night until your exam scores rise, starting tonight. You'll have a tutor, Miss Granger-" Hermione let out a tiny squeak of protest that was ignored. "-will accompany you to your detentions to help you with your homework. Oh, and get some sleep, Mr. Malfoy, you look dead on your feet." She strode back to the front of the class and gave a little smile. "Now that that's handled, I apologize. Class you may now take the crabs out of their containers."

Draco, normally so smooth, had landed himself detention. He no longer had evenings to work on the wardrobe.

_Bloody idiot!What were you thinking?_ he mentally scolded himself as he tried to catch the scurrying crab before it fell to the floor.

A few seats ahead, Hermione twisted in her seat to glance at Draco. He had a sour look that contorted his usually handsome, striking features. He still looked worn to the bone, but at least he had taken the time to actually comb his hair it looked like. Most of all he looked like someone she didn't want to spend her evenings with.

"Hermione, why does my crab keep growing feathers instead of fur?" Ron Weasley moaned as his "crab" tried to fly away. Hermione stopped thinking of Draco and went to aid Ron.

* * *

That night after dinner, Draco made his way to the Transfiguration classroom, irritated beyond measure. He swung the door open and stormed in to find Hermione sitting alone in the candle light.

"Where's McGonagall?" he demanded before stepping into the room.

"Professor McGonagall, if you don't mind," McGonagall said from behind Draco, her tone insinuating that she would be called "Professor" no matter how he felt about it. Not waiting for an apology she wouldn't receive, she swept past him and began to shuffle parchment around on her desk. "I'm on duty to patrol with Professor Flitwick. Miss Granger, I trust you to keep Mr. Malfoy on task. Mr. Malfoy, I expect you to respect Miss Granger, understand?" Again, she left without waiting for an answer.

"Well, come on. Sit down, grab your quill and some parchment," Hermione said, gesturing to the seat next to her. Draco snorted and found a seat a couple of spaces away. Instead of taking out his utensils, he propped his feet up on the desk and leaned his head back. "I have a better idea. Why don't you just do the work for me, and I'll take a little nap, eh?" Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, we both don't want to be here. If you just study hard with me and pass the next test, we'll be done. So get your filthy feet off the desk and sit up!"

Draco looked at her lazily without moving. "I don't appreciate being talked to that way, especially by a mudblood."

"I don't appreciate an arrogant, self-righteous, sad excuse for a man antagonizing me this way. Now sit up or I'll make you sit up!" Hermione retorted, losing her temper.

Draco chuckled but took his feet off the desk and said, "Temper, temper, Granger. Don't want to lose your prefect privileges, do you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "At least I'm still a prefect, unlike you."

Draco stood up and strutted over to where Hermione was sitting, greatly enjoying getting a rise out of her. He sat down on her desk, looking down at her angry face. "I didn't get booted, _I declined_ the opportunity of being a prefect for another year," He paused and gave her a smirk. "I need to spend more time focusing on my grades, you know." Watching her face turn red with frustration somehow made him forget that he was supposed to be angry, too. When she didn't reply he took out his wand, looked her in the eyes and turned her quill into a sparrow with only a silent flick of his wrist.

"As you can see, I have no problem with Transfiguration, although I do think it's a stupid subject. I would have passed the last exam if hadn't fallen asleep on it, and I wouldn't be behind on my homework if I wasn't preoccupied with other stuff."

Their eyes held, Hermione glaring and Draco smirking. Although it killed Hermione to admit it, he was very good with magic, maybe even better than she. The long eye contact was making her uncomfortable, so she looked away and said, "You should see Ms. Pomfrey, you look like you have a bad flu."

He sat back and slid off her desk. "Why is everybody so concerned with my well-being all the sudden?" he snapped, throwing his arms up in exasperation. Hermione gasped as his sleeves settled around his elbows for a brief second and shouted, "What's that on your arm?"

Draco let down his sleeves quickly. "That's none of your concern," he hissed.

The rest of the evening was spent in silence, Draco un-enthusiastically wrote about why Transfiguration was important, and Hermione checked it every so often. Both couldn't wait for the evening end.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter title from Ludwig Beethoven** Thanks for reading! How was it? Were they in character? The next two (maybe one) chapters are on my list of top five favorite chapters- I have 11 written so far. I'm excited to see what you think, there's a kiss and lots of blood- that's all I'm telling you.**


	6. A Fiendly Reminder

**Disclaimer:** **I**'**m** **Miranda, not JKR**.

* * *

Draco was on his way to the Slytherin common when he felt an intense burning on his forearm. Ducking out of sight, he rolled up his sleeve to find that the Dark Mark had turned surprisingly darker. Draco swore under his breath. What could the Dark Lord want with him? Was it just him? Was the Dark Lord summoning all of the Death Eaters? He grimly hoped for the latter. Making sure no one was watching, he slid into a secret passage way and made his way to Hogsmeade. Once there, he apparated (even though he was underage) to the Malfoy Manor, where the Dark Lord had made his headquarters.

Taking a deep breath and setting his face to show no emotion, he opened the doors.

What he saw shocked him. His home had never been cozy or warm, but what greeted his eyes was a whole new level of forlornness. All the portraits of his blood line had been removed, leaving the walls completely void of color and movement. There was no furniture that Draco could see, but instead rugs made out of what looked like werewolf fur. The once billowing green curtains were now black and limp and there were house elves limping and scurrying about, most covered in blood.

"C-come Draco Malfoy. The Master Dark Lord is this way," A scratched up elf whispered at him. Draco stopped scrutinizing the room and followed the elf through the silent house. They ended, to his great dismay, in the dining room. There at the head of the table where Draco himself usually spent his days, was Voldemort.

Draco bowed and noted with terror that he was alone with the Dark Lord.

"Sit, Draco," Voldemort murmured, nodding to a seat a couple chairs away from his own. Draco immediately obeyed, not meeting the tall figure's eyes.

"I assume you know why you're here? You are a bright boy, after all," Voldemort said, still peaking softly.

Draco nodded.

"I'm afraid I can't hear you," Voldemort said, beckoning Nagini to come closer.

"Yes, Master. I know why I'm here," Draco replied, keeping his head bowed so that he was staring at his dim reflection on the table's surface.

"Tell me, Draco, if you are aware of why I summoned you, then you are aware of your purpose, correct?"

"Yes, My Lord, you are correct." Draco was terrified.

"Then why, Draco, is the vanishing cabinet not repaired?" Voldemort hissed.

"It's... difficult, Mas-"

"I did not ask for excuses, Draco. Need I remind you that in order for me to come to full power I need Dumbledore dead and not interfering? And to have him dead, you need to have my Death Eaters take care of the Order while you perform the deed? And to have the help of your kind, you must repair the vanishing cabinet? Do I need to remind you of all of this, young Draco?" Voldemort asked, his voice still eerily calm and soft.

Draco twisted his thumb nervously. "No Master, you needn't remind me."

"Then why have I just reminded you?" Voldemort questioned, stroking Nagini mindlessly.

Draco was starting to sweat despite the chill of the room. How was he to answer?

"My Lord..." he began. Was he pleading? Replying? He couldn't think straight anymore.

"Stand up Draco. And look at me."

Draco did as he was told, forcing himself to not flinch as his cold gray eyes met Voldemort's scarlet ones. Though his voice was calm, the Dark Lord's eyes were filled not only with cold fury, but also a wicked sort of pleasure.

"Good. Now I think you _do_ need a reminder, Draco." With that, Voldemort swished his wand and sent Draco flying back until he hit the wall.

Draco stood up shaking, "Master, please, I'll-" His words were interrupted as flames erupted from the front of his robes, scorching his stomach. Shouting with fear and pain, Draco beat at himself, trying to extinguish the flames. They immediately stopped, but Draco's skin remained blistered. Although the pain was unlike anything he'd felt, Draco refused to cry in front of the Dark Lord.

Gasping through the pain, he gripped the table to steady himself.

"Now Draco, will you fix the cabinet? We are running out of time."

Draco bit back a roar of pain and panted, "Yes! Yes, Dark Lord!"

Voldemort gave a cruel half smile and said, "Just to be sure. Crucio." Then Draco was on the floor, his muscles stretching and tearing, his joints clenching together, his bones bending and snapping and puncturing nerves, his skin burning and melting. Yet, Draco knew that he was still intact, that this was all in his head. After some time, the curse ceased, but his body still ached and throbbed.

He rolled over and vomited as Voldemort said, "Leave now. If I feel you're doing an inadequate job, you shall be punished again."

Draco left with out another word, gripping his side and limping.

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, Draco staggered into the common room, which was strangely empty. Then he remembered that the Halloween Ball was taking place in the Great Hall. Good. He needed to be alone. He needed to be alone, yet he felt an unwanted sense of utter solitude. Suddenly, he long for company, anyone to come and sit with him, to show that he wasn't alone in this world. Hell, he'd even settle for Potter's company.

He felt so void, but at the same time etched with the horrors of grief, anger, pain, and hatred. He wanted to give up. If that meant dying... well, would that be so bad?

Draco scrubbed his face with his hands, so alone, so uncared for... He was in great pain, his head was throbbing, his stomach's blisters still burned, and his muscles felt like lead. It was too much to bear, the pain, the responsibility... too much. Draco stood to his feet and stumbled to Professor Snape's office. "_Accio mead_." He croaked and the bottle of honey colored liquid flew into his waiting hand. Tottering, he made his way back to the common room and sat on the floor with his back to a sofa. He uncorked the mead and took a deep drink. It burned his throat, but that wasn't real pain. Pretty soon half the bottle was gone and Draco sat staring into the flames of the fireplace. His body didn't ache anymore, or maybe it did. He couldn't tell. But his mind had only quieted slightly. The door opened, but he didn't care. He took another drink.

The scent of citrus wafted around him and looked up to see Pansy Parkinson kneeling next to him.

"Hi," he slurred, his tongue heavy.

"Oh Draco, what are you doing? You're a mess!" she said, smoothing his hair down.

He laughed humorlessly. "Thass what everybody's been sayin'."

"I'm going to go to bed, are you alright down here?"

Draco grabbed her wrists. "No, don'. Don' leave meh. Make meh forget, give meh company. Please make meh forget," he murmured, gripping her wrists tighter. She was a bit scared, she'd never seen Draco, or anyone for that matter, in this state.

As Pansy hesitated, Draco shifted so he was on his knees and facing her. He leaned in so that his face was just a breath away from hers. "Take meh away, help meh forget. Don' leave meh alone," he whispered before he bent down a little more and kissed her.

The feeling of being so physically close to another human being, feeling their heart beat when he wasn't sure if his was, feeling life and heat and breath, comforted Draco. And for a while, he was free of his mind.

* * *

**A/N: Whaaa? I thought this was a Dramione! It is, patience is a virtue, child. Next chapter gets pretty gruesome, but there's some Dramione action in it as well. Please let me know what you think (good or bad). **


	7. Broken

**Warning: Contains violent torture. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Harry Potter world.**

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Draco woke up the same way he'd passed out the night before: sprawled on the cold, stone floor of the common room. He slowly sat up, his aching body protesting. What had happened? Then it all came crashing down; the Dark Lord, his "reminder", the full bottle of mead... He stood up and was greeted by a wave of nausea that sent his hands flying to his stomach. His head was pounding as he squinted down at his watch, trying to make out the blurry numbers. Judging by the time, everybody would be in the Great Hall eating breakfast. He needed to talk to Crabbe and Goyle as soon as possible, so he hurriedly washed and dressed for the day before practically running to the Great Hall.

Once he reached his destination he was assaulted with the sounds of chatting students and scraping silverware that sounded ten times too loud and light from the windows that was much too harsh for his eyes. Soon enough he spotted his accomplices and stalked over to them.

"Morning." Goyle grunted. Draco nodded and said thinly, "I need you guys to to cover for me in Charms, alright?" The two boys nodded densely, thinking very hard. "We'll tell 'im you got the the flu an' Ms. Pomfrey sent you to bed." Crabbe said, obviously proud of with his plan. Draco put his head in hands wearily and sighed, "It will do."

However, Crabbe didn't get to use his brilliant alibi, for in potions Draco felt his arm burn in a familiar way. Thinking fast, he threw himself onto the ground and howled, "AAGH! I've been hexed! Somebody hexed me!" And for good measure he threw in, "Potter- it was Potter!" He rolled around on the floor in false pain as Harry stood up indignantly and said furiously, "I did not, Malfroy! Stop acting like a lunatic!"

Draco pulled up his robes to reveal the burns he had received the previous day. A couple of students gasped, some gagged, and a few girls giggled at the sight of his bare midriff. Harry stared and stammered, "I didn't- he- that's absurd... Tell him Ron!" Slughorn stepped forward then, looking frazzled. He waved his hands to quiet the class down. "Alright, alright! Draco, that looks pretty nasty. Go see Ms. Pomfrey. And there's no telling who performed the hex, so settle down, Harry."

Draco scurried out of the class, moaning pitifully until he was out of ear- shot, and headed to the Dark Lord.

* * *

As he entered the dining room he saw, much to his relief, all of the Death Eaters (Snape excluded) seated around the table. The room was darkly lit, frigid, and deathly silent. Curious to what was going on but determined to keep a passive demeanor, Draco looked for an open chair but saw none, so he went to stand at his parent's shoulders. His mother gave him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, but remained as stoic as the others. Although Narcissa was not a Death Eater, the Dark Lord had requested her to be present for this meeting, and she didn't hesitate to comply. The Dark Lord wasn't looking to kindly upon her family these days.

Before Draco could wonder at her strained expression, Lord Voldemort stood up smoothly and whispered, "You will do as I say." And without warning, Voldemort flicked his wand, sending Draco floating above the table before he could even pull out his own wand. He wanted to shout and demand to be let down, but he knew if he did he would pay serious consequences.

"Begin." Voldemort hissed, sitting down. Draco trembled inadvertently as he hovered above the eager faces. It was obvious he was being punished for something, what had he done wrong in the short amount of time he'd been away?

He didn't have a lot of time to ponder this because a short, stout man jumped up with his wand at the ready and crowed gleefully, "Fractums!"

Draco shouted out as his nose broke to one side and warm, dark blood cascaded down his lips and pale chin before streaming onto the dark table below him. Why were they doing this to him?

An elderly witch remained sitting, but pointed her wand at him lazily as he closed his eyes against the stinging, throbbing pain that spread through his whole face. "Callesco." She said in a bored voice.

The blood that was still pouring steadily from Draco's nose was long forgotten as he felt himself heat up. Pleasantly at first, but then to an unbearable degree. He screamed as his skin began to blister up and burst, writhing in the air as if to escape the heat. Before he passed out from the pain, the heat stopped and Draco lay limp, breathing heavily. He turned his pleading, pain filled eyes to his parents, begging them silently to make it stop. His father gave a silent shake of his head and his mother was staring viciously at the table, her lips pursed.

Voldemort spoke from the head of the table, "This is another reminder, Draco. When I give you a duty, you will do it or else die trying."

The torture continued. He was stretched, sliced, stung, beaten, burned and flayed as Death Eater after Death Eater punished him with whatever they seemed fit. Nobody paid attention to his screams of agony, his grunts of pain, or the way he had turned so pale he was a shade of gray. Nobody paid attention to the way his blood was steadily streaming out of his body, carrying parts of his soul with it, the way his body quaked uncontrollably or the way he was fighting for a breath, fighting not to beg for death.

Finally, his mother stood up and aimed at him, and with a light jab of her wand he felt something scurrying across the back of his neck where he hated to be touched. He weakly squirmed and twisted uncomfortably, but nobody seemed to notice the lack of pain the spell had caused. His father stood next and made him vomit, and again nobody paid any mind to the softness of the spell.

Draco thought it was over. His throat was so damaged from his screams that he could taste the blood in the back of his throat from in. He didn't bother to swallow, he simply let his saliva slowly fall from his slightly opened mouth and mingle below him in the puddle of his other bodily fluids. His robes were slashed so badly that hardly any fabric remained, showing off his pale skin that was covered in blisters, burns, boils and blood. He couldn't see straight nor hold his head up.

"Draco, I hope this is a lesson to you, you foolish, foolish boy! Never dismiss the Dark Lord! He knows best because he is best. Don't ever disobey him again!" His Aunt Belletrix was standing up, her chest heaving in fury. "Crucio!" She screeched.

This was Draco's third time being under the cruciatus curse, but the pain was still as unbearable as the first time his father had performed it on him. His limbs seemed to stretch until his bones were snapping out of their joints and his muscles were shredded. His skin pinched and seared, suffocating the life inside of it, and his heart was beating so fast and erratically that he was lucky if he could catch a breath.

Then it stopped and he fell a couple of feet onto the table and into his fluids and the amused gazes of his fellow Death Eaters. He would have been humiliated and angry if he hadn't been on death's door step.

Voldemort paced in front of him. "Draco, I reminded you yesterday of your task, yet when you returned to Hogwarts, you did not do it. You did not even try. I know all, Draco. You cannot escape me. I will be watching, do not disappoint me again."

After his mother had cured his life threatening injuries so that he could stand, he headed back to Hogwarts. He walked with an empty mind. He didn't notice that although he had fresh robes on, it was too cold to not be wearing a over-cloak. He didn't notice roots snagging at his feet, trying to trip him. And he didn't notice that he was clenching his jaw so severely that it was cramping.

Draco arrived at Hogwarts and made his way to the upper level where the vanishing cabinet sat. He was snapped out of his trance by a voice shouting angrily behind him.

"Malfoy! Where were you last night? And then you skipped class, too? Do you think this is a joke? Stop and look at me when I'm talking to you, Malfoy! I don't care if you can turn a bloody rock into a unicorn! You. Need. To. Do. Your. Detention! Honestly I-" Hermione was cut short just as she reached Draco by him whirling around and shoving her against the wall. He pinned her there, his eyes dark, dangerous, and miserable. "Listen, mudblood, leave me alone. I don't 'need' to do anything you say-"

Hermione recovered from her shock and interrupted his hoarse growling by gasping, "What on earth happened to your face!"

His face was quite a mess, from his nose to the collar of his robes was stained red with drying blood, and his nose remained crooked from the first spell he's been hit with. He had two black eyes and all of skin was covered in some form of bruise, burn, blister, or deep cut.

Draco sneered and rasped, "I bet you're dying to know, aren't you? I don't have time for this." He jerked his hands away from her and turned to leave when she called after him, "Come to detention, I don't want to remind you again!" To his uncomfort, he flinched greatly at the word 'remind'. Hermione noticed, and despite her loathing of him, she felt pity.

* * *

**A/N: I'm slightly ashamed to say that this was very theoraputic and easy to write. I apologize for the lack of Dramione that I promised previously, but there's some next chapter- cross my heart. Feel free to leave a review. **


	8. Trouble with Women

**A/N: Thank you StoryWriter831 for helping me with this chapter! **

* * *

Working nonstop from the afternoon to well into the early morning, driven by his dolor and lacerations, paid off for Draco. By the time the students of Hogwarts were stirring, he could send creatures back and forth through the wardrobes. Sure, they came back mutated or dead, but it was the first progression he'd made. With a small, grim flicker of hope, he headed back to the Slytherin dorms to get ready for the day.

In the Great Hall, Draco suddenly realized how ravenous he really was, for he hadn't eaten a full meal in months. Ever since his punishment the day before, Draco's mind had become an empty fog. He thought no thoughts except those for his duty and necessities.

He was so intent on his pudding that he didn't notice Pansy slide up to him, so when she leaned into him he jerked away in surprise. He saw hurt flash in her black eyes.

"Er... Yes, what is it?" He asked, and discovered that his throat hadn't recovered from his screams. He swallowed down his mouthful as she sniffed and looked away. "Oh, I don't know, Draco. I guess I just thought after the night that you were all over me you might, you know, actually talk to me."

Draco blinked and stared at her. The last time he'd talked to her was on the train back in September... wasn't it? He cleared his throat painfully and shot Blaise a quizzical look. "And...er, what night was this?"

Pansy gave him a violent glare. "Oh, you're going to play that game? It was only two nights ago! The way you were carrying on I thought you enjoyed it enough to at least acknowledge that it happened!" She stood up abruptly and stormed off, shoving Draco's head into his plate before disappearing out of sight.

Draco cleaned off his face with a spell as the other Slytherins laughed. He scowled and felt an exaggerated flash of fury at his housemates. Turning away from their laughs, he leaned over to Blaise and said uncomfortably, "Hey, mate. Did I-that is, Pansy- Erm, did we... well you know..." Blaise gave a wicked smirk and said slyly, "Why, Draco, I don't know. Could you enlighten me? What exactly are you asking?"

Draco felt his cheeks flush and he felt a pang of hate in his gut. He leaned in closer and whispered furiously, "Did Pansy and I... did we have a night together?" Blaise chuckled. "You sure did."

Draco coughed and sputtered and in his shock quietly yelped, "I had sex with Pansy?!"

Blaise roared with laughter, "No, no mate! You just had some fun, that's all. Just some proper snogging, nothing else. And here I thought you two were over." His eyes narrowed threateningly. "What did you call her? Oh yea, an irritating leech. Really, Draco, out of all the girls to have a fling with you chose Parkinson?"

Draco burned with anger, how _dare _he tease him like that!

"Are you upset that you get my second-hand trash, Zabini?" Draco said coldly and watched Blaise slightly flush with some satisfaction.

"What are you going on about?" Blaise growled.

Draco just smirked and rose to his feet. He'd seen the darker Slytherin stare at Pansy and tease her mercilessly. "Just remember that every inch of skin was touched by me first... that is if you ever man up enough to properly pursue her." With that Draco strode out of the Great Hall, leaving a fuming Blaise behind.

* * *

Later that night, Draco sleepily trudged to the Transfiguration class room. He was well past 24 hours with no sleep, and had skipped three classes that day to justify coming to detention. He walked into the classroom with a jaw aching yawn and was surprised to see Hermione pacing worriedly between desks. She looked up and her frown softened with relief. "You came!" She exclaimed.

"I would assume so, seeing as I'm standing here." Draco grunted. It still hurt to speak and swallow, and his voice was hoarse and raspy. He let another yawn escape and muttered, "Let's get started so that I can get out of here."

Hermione tugged on her sleeve nervously and blushed at the floor. "Actually, I was hoping to get some answers first."

Draco raised a pale eyebrow at her as he leaned against McGonagall's desk. "Isn't that what all your books are for, mudblood?"

Hermione looked up and snapped, "Don't call me that! And the questions I have can't be answered in books."

Draco crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly as he wondered idly if her innocence was annoying or refreshing... nope, definitely annoying.

"What happened to you yesterday?" She asked, breaking the silence. Draco tensed but answered with scowl, "A lot."

Hermione took a step towards him. "I already have my theories, Malfoy. And I'm almost positive they're right. So either you tell me or I say it."

Something in her tone irritated Draco. He stood up and paced in front of her. "I'd like to hear your theories... Granger."

Hermione cleared her throat and said boldly. "I know that you're a Death Eater. I saw the mark on your arm that day in detention." When Draco didn't respond but kept meandering through the class, Hermione continued. "I think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is having you do horrible things to good creatures and that you, not being prepared, got yourself injured."

Draco snorted. "Is that what you think?"

Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably. "Isn't that right?"

Draco straightened up and said, "It doesn't concern you. I'm here to study, not be interrogated by some foolish mudblood."

Hermione's hands clenched into small fists and she said through clenched teeth, "I think it concerns me when a student shows up mangled and bleeding. I'm a prefect and whatever's going on is obviously effecting your education as well as your health."

Draco rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, stopping a couple of paces in front of the seething girl. "Why, Granger, I didn't know you cared."

Hermione was fighting to control her temper. Why'd he have to be such a prat? She took a calming breath and spoke as if to a small child or pet, "I need to know that you and the other students are safe."

Draco studied her then softly scoffed. "Nobody's safe. You know that the Dark Lord is back." He bit the inside of his cheek. He shouldn't have called him the Dark Lord... but then again she already saw his mark anyway.

Hermione's eyes met Draco's and they weighed each other in silence. Draco saw a fire of passion and anger while Hermione faced disquiet and animosity. But the longer they stared, both too intent on trying to figure the other one out to feel awkward as they should, Hermione saw the animosity slightly shift, and his grey eyes betrayed anguish.

Draco was not going to look away first, he had to show this braggart her place. Besides, he was curious about the intensity of her emotions- which she showed openly. He could see her suppressed rage, her curiosity and then a touch of pity. Was she pitying _him_? Of all the-

Hermione spun around so fast that Draco was left staring at the back of her head in shock. She began to wave her wand this way and that as Draco watched in mild curiosity and confusion. Why was she doing this? _Because he's still human. An awful, evil, horrid human, but a human nonetheless, _Hermione thought to herself as she conjured up a chocolate frog and a saucer of tea, both of which she handed to him.

He stared at the treats then up at her with a look of contempt.

"Oh really," She sighed, rolling her eyes, "It's not poisoned."

"Why would I take food from you?" He sneered; really he was just curious why she was offering it to him.

Hermione set the treats next to him on an empty desk and said shortly, "I'm assuming from your wounds that you're not feeling so good. This will help."

Draco's eyebrows raised in shock. Was she just being... nice? Genuinely and simply _nice_? To him? He was about to make a snide remark, but hell, he hadn't had chocolate in ages. And tea did help relax him...

Draco hesitantly took the tea and chocolate. "Thanks." He mumbled, not able to break out of the manners his mother had drilled into him.

They sat next to each other in silence for several minutes. Draco was sipping quietly and staring off into space, Hermione doodling on a piece of parchment. He began to feel calmer then he had in a while, almost relaxed. When he'd finished his tea, he broke the frog into two and pulled out the Wizard card, Dumbledore. Of course. He threw away the card and grudgingly handed the head half to Hermione who took it and promptly popped it into her mouth. She looked over at Draco and asked him curiously, "What are you doing?"

Draco looked down. He had been melting his chocolate in his hand, a habit that drove his mother nuts. He licked at his fingers and muttered, "It's better when it's melty." Hermione let out a little laugh at the sight of a Death Eater slurping chocolate off his fingers like a child. Draco just scowled and scooted a small space away from her.

They sat in silence for an unknown amount of time, both uncomfortable, but not unbearably so.

"Did you get much work done?" McGonagall asked as she swept into the room, noting the two students sitting on desks instead of in them.

Hermione jumped up and looked nervously around. It was pretty obvious that no work had been accomplished by the lack of parchment and quills. "Hello Professor." She finally uttered.

McGonagall looked between the two of them, trying to read the situation. Finally she turned to Draco and said, "Have you finished your essay?"

"I believe you said it's due at the end of the week: tomorrow." Draco said smoothly, daring her with his eyes to push him to his limit, which honestly wasn't that far these days.

McGonagall smiled tightly and said, "Of course, Mr. Malfoy. Why don't you head to bed?"

Draco would have argued any other day, no old witch could tell him what to do, but he was exhausted and sleep had never sounded more delicious, especially with his stomach full of warm tea and chocolate.

He loped past the two women without another word, suppressing a yawn as he went.

Once Draco had left, Hermione turned to gather her things so that she too could go to bed, but McGonagall caught her gently by the arm.

"Miss Granger, I'm not sure what happened tonight, but I want you to tread carefully from now on, understand? Draco is many things. Some, I'm afraid, are much worse then presumable."

"I understand, Professor." Hermione mumbled. It was only when she was wrapped in her warm blankets drifting off to sleep an hour later that she realized she had gotten none of the answers that she had wanted, but gained even more questions.

* * *

On one of the lower levels of the school, McGonagall marched down the halls, searching for Severus. After some while of searching, He emerged from around a corner, wand raised for light.

"Minerva." Severus acknowledged with a curt nod, "How are you this evening?"

McGonagall returned the nod and replied, "Good evening, Severus, I trust you're well. I wanted to speak to you about Draco."

Severus ever so slightly cocked his head and said slowly, "What concerns you about Draco? He's in Syltherin, as I know you're aware of."

The witch just shook her head. "Yes, that's right. He's in your house, so I'm assuming you've seen the state he's in." She said gesturing at her face.

Severus just nodded solemnly, "Yes, I noticed. You'd have to be blind not to. But why are you coming to me about this, have you talked to the boy himself?"

Again, she shook her head and said with a sigh, "He wouldn't listen to me if I tried. I daresay, he'd do the exact opposite if I recommended seeking help or receiving medical attention." Severus let out a short chuckle at this and McGonagall continued, "He respects you, he'll listen to you. Please talk to him. Find out what's wrong- he's obviously not well, an persuade him to get help."

A small shadow crossed Severus' face, anyone would have missed it, but the two had been colleagues for over ten years and it didn't escape McGonagall's attention, but she'd deal with that at another time.

"I'll speak to him."

"Thank you."

* * *

**A/N: Reviews with feedback are very welcomed! On a funny, personal note: for some reason when I typed this I kept typing "Dork Lard" on accident. **


	9. I Became Insane

It was finally the weekend, and it had been the longest week of Draco's life by far. He had finished his stupid Transfiguration essay and was free of detention for two days. The thought of detention confused Draco; he hated how Hermione forced him to spend at least half an hour studying and that he was stuck with her for _two hours_, but if he really thought about it, Hermione's presence was... Well, kind of welcomed. As frustrating as she was, it was sort of nice to have intelligent company even if she was a mudblood.

He spent Saturday morning and part of the afternoon working on the vanishing cabinet until he could send large insects back and forth without harming them. Mammals on the other hand...

Feeling that he'd done enough work to avoid punishment, Draco started to wander around Hogwarts, not lost in thought as he usually would be but simply watching life happen around him. He watched first years boldly toss rocks without their hands, thrilled and boasting. In a corner of the courtyard, fifth years sat with their noses in big, thick books, their eyes droopy with sleep, and couples had made a home of several different nooks. No matter where he walked, the people Draco saw had a peace about them that he envied.

Angry and bitter, Draco stalked to his dorm room and began to dig through the chest at the foot of his bed. After some time he found his Nimbus 2001 that his father bought him nearly four years ago. Gripping it harder than necessary, he stormed to the Quidditch field where no one was practicing, luckily.

For a while Draco just sat on his broom as the breeze swayed him slightly. He missed Quidditch. He knew wasn't the best seeker- he would have made a much better keeper- but his 12 year old self had wanted to beat Potter at his own position.

After a while of lounging, Draco's thoughts began to sneak into his consciousness. _Why didn't they stop them? What kind of parents sit and watch as their only son is tortured? Why haven't they written? Do I want them to write? Why'd Voldemort choose me? Why is Hermione treating me kindly? Can I do this? Should I do this? Can I live with myself if my parents are killed because of me? Can I live with myself if I succeed? Can I live with my self at all? Coward. Filthy, weak good for nothing COWARD!_

Draco felt as if his thoughts were suffocating him. He struggled for breath as he fought an internal battle to conquer his mind. With an echoing roar he waved his wand and sent a cloud of small rocks flying past him. Draco chased the largest stone as if it had the answers to all of his questions. He flew as fast as his broom could carry him, his body plastered into the handle, urging it to go fast enough to out-fly his mind. Soon he caught up to the rock, but he simply continued to follow it up and down, left and right, going so fast he was a blur.

The overcast sky gave Draco the feeling of utter aloneness, so without restraint he shouted as loud as his already sore voice could go. He raised his voice to the skies, though he wasn't sure what he was saying. Sometimes he would curse, sometimes he would just test how long his vocal cords could last, and sometimes he managed to shout out coherent words and phrases such as "I'm a God-damned Death Eater!" or "Come strike me down, won't you?!" or simply, "I'm fucked!"

He didn't know how many hours had passed, but it soon became dark and cold with a light drizzle of rain. Shivering, (he had been to upset to grab proper attire) Draco finally landed. He was shaking the water from his wind blown hair when a tall, dark figure appeared in front of him.

Startled, Draco jumped back and growled, "Merlin, Professor! Give a bloke some warning."

Professor Snape grabbed his upper arm and began to drag the protesting boy back to the castle without a word.

"I know how to _walk!_" Draco snapped, trying to release himself from the older wizard's strong grip.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you're going to die it is _not _going to be from the common cold." professor Snape said calmly, but his voice had a hard edge to it. Draco stopped struggling and stopped in his tracks, causing the Professor to stop as well.

"For the love of- Wh... what are you doing?"

Draco was bent over so that his head almost touched his knees. His long arms were wrapped around his lean waist and his shoulders were shaking unrhythmically. Professor Snape stared at the young boy with his eyebrows raised. "Are you... er, are you alright?"

Draco lost it then. He fell to his knees and let out the laughter he'd been holding in. It sounded strange as it filled the dark, empty field.

"This is hardly the time to have a giggling episode, Mr. Malfoy." Snape growled lightly, very confused at the scene in front of him.

At the sound of his professor uttering the word "giggle" Draco laughed even harder, so now no sound was coming out, just deep gasps. Professor Snape grabbed him again and muttered under his breath, "He's finally lost it."

When they reached Hogwarts, Draco was still snickering. "No, no Professor. If I die it will be because of dark magic. Or madness... either one. No, no, no Draco Malfoy isn't lucky enough to die from a cold." He laughed bitterly. Snape pulled him closer as hissed, "Do not speak about that magic inside of the school, understand?"

Draco let out another laugh. "Alright professor. If I die it will be because of the Dark Lord. Or a Death Eater. Maybe you'll do the honors?" The professor slapped his pale face, not too hard, just enough to snap the boy out of his rambling.

"I need you to stop your incongruous babbling." He whispered harshly, still holding on to Draco. He was afraid of what might happen if he let go.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Granger girl pointing a younger student down a long hallway. She looked like she'd just come in from outside as well. Draco in tow, Professor Snape strode over to her.

"Miss Granger. Good evening. I trust you to take Draco to Ms. Pomfrey as soon as possible." He said as soon as he reached her. Hermione looked up at him and said uncomfortably, "Actually, sir, I was about to-"

"Did I ask what your evening plans were? Mr. Malfoy is quite unwell, ten points from Gryffindor for preventing the well being of another student." Snape interrupted smoothly.

defeated, Hermione took Draco's arm and began to lead him to the hospital wing. Draco was staring at his shoes with a very sad, forlorn expression on his pointed face.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter title from my beloved Edgar Allan Poe "I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity." God, I'm love with Edgar.** You may be staring at your screen in bewilderment, wondering what on earth just happened. There was a time when I was extremely stressed, mistreated, and extremely angry/hurt. I looked for an escape in anything: books, photography, food etc. Draco finds his in Quidditch. I hated myself for not being able to stand up to the person who was mistreating me- Draco hates himself for being a Death Eater and struggling to do the one thing that can save his family. As for the laughing episode, there's a time when you just say "Screw it" and it makes you a whole new (not better) person. I don't know if you've ever been in this type of state, so I thought I'd explain a little. **

**Wow, that got a little personal, sorry!  
**


	10. A Long Night

Hermione stayed in the door frame of the infantry while Ms. Pomfrey fussed over Draco, propping up pillows, urging him to drink some water and feeling his cool head for any signs of fever. The walk up had been unpleasant, Draco had kept a few steps in front of Hermione the whole way, acting as if he were alone. Every time she quickened her pace to keep up, she'd see his shoulders tense and he'd lengthen his stride so the Hermione was nearly jogging to match his long-legged steps.

Noticing the young witch standing awkwardly to the side, Ms. Pomfrey beckoned her forward and said quietly, "Would you mind making some chamomile tea, dear? Everything you need is over there."

As Draco quietly sat on the tiny cot, staring at his large hands, Hermione busied herself with the tea, silently wishing she had some Veritaserum to mix with the steaming liquid. When she finished, she made her way to the nurse, carefully balancing the cup of tea so it wouldn't spill.

"Is he alright?" She asked the elderly woman, taking Draco's silence as a bad sign. Really, he was just embarrassed that he'd lost control like that. Malfoys didn't break down into hysterics.

"Hmm? Oh yes, of course. It seems Mr. Malfoy has been under a lot of stress lately and his body hasn't responded well to it." She took the tea from Hermione's hands and set it on the table that stood next to Draco. "Drink up. It will make you feel better."

Draco looked up at her coldly and said warily, "I doubt it." But he took the cup anyway.

"Well it's good to know you can talk. That's all you'd better do though. I don't want you to take one step out of this bed until I say so, understand?"

Draco replied with leaning back against the wall of pillows she had built for him earlier. He wasn't planning on moving anytime soon.

Taking Hermione aside, the nurse whispered to her, "I'd really appreciate it if you stayed with him tonight, I have other matters to attend to, but I don't feel right about leaving him alone."

At Hermione's uncomfortable shuffling and lack of eye contact, Ms. Pomfrey placed a kind hand on her shoulder and said, "I really hate to ask, I hate to have to leave, but seeing as you _are_ a prefect and you're already here..."

Hermione sighed heavily, there was no way out of it, it seemed. She nodded and close her eyes in an effort to compose herself. "Alright. Yes, I'll stay."

After Ms. Pomfrey had settled things down for the night and left the two alone in silence, Hermione lay down on the cot that was next to Draco's. He hadn't moved an inch since arriving but now he growled quietly, "I'm not some textbook, Granger. Stop studying me."

"I saw you earlier." Hermione replied, shifting in her cot to better look at him.

"I didn't know stalking was your style. I don't know whether to be repulsed or terrified."

Hermione rolled her eyes. How could someone be so snarky, even on the brink of a mental break down?

"I go to the Quidditch pitch a lot. Surprisingly, when it's not in use it's one of the quietest places at Hogwarts. What happened back there?" Hermione explained, asking the question when she realized she had an opportunity to get some answers.

"You were there, weren't you? What'd it look like I was doing?" He sneered. _Going bonkers, _Hermione answered silently. Out loud she said, "If you're not in the mood to talk, why don't you just go to sleep?"

Draco scoffed, "I haven't slept properly in weeks, why start now?"

Hermione's curiosity peaked. "Why haven't you slept?"

"Why all the questions?"

"Are you going to answer all of my questions with questions?"

"Should I?" Draco said with a smirk that gave Hermione goosebumps. Goosebumps of annoyance, of course. Not goosebumps because right now Draco was sleepily smirking in a way that softened his eyes so he looked almost boyish, and was laying less than three feet away from her and he smelled deliciously like rain and grass. It was Draco Malfoy, after all. Git.

"Why aren't you playing Quidditch this year?" She said, clearing her throat and shifting her gaze away from his languished face to the ceiling.

"If I ignore you long enough will you shut up?" He grumbled, rubbing one side of his face with the palm of his hand.

"No."

"It's going to be long night." Draco sighed.

Hermione smiled, knowing that she had won. "How about a question for a question?" She offered.

Draco snorted. "What could I have to ask _you_?"

"Stop being a prat. If you're not going to sleep then you might as well pass the time somehow." She retorted. Draco contemplated this. Talking would ensure he didn't succumb to his nightmares. "Fine. But I get to ask the first question." He finally said.

Hermione nodded in agreement, suppressing the triumphant grin she felt inside. "Ok, shoot."

Draco hardly paused before asking, "Why don't you fix your hair?"

Hermione scowled. Of all the things he could have asked her... he chose her _hair_?

"It's too much work to do it daily the muggle way and its silly to try and fix it with a complicated spell that could leave me bald." She replied honestly. Draco thought about that for a moment then gave a slight nod. Hermione pondered her question, she didn't want to scare him off with something too personal right off the bat. Eventually she said, "Are you and Parkinson an item?"

Draco glanced at her and drew his brow together in a quizzical scowl. That wasn't what he had been expecting.

"No."

After receiving a glare from Hermione that demanded him to elaborate, he continued, "No, we were in 3rd year, but how serious can a couple of 13 year olds get? Now it's a one-sided fetish on her part but I keep her around for dull nights."

Hermione blushed and spluttered, "You shouldn't- that's cruel!" Draco rolled his eyes and cut off her lecture by asking, "Why waste your time being civil to me?"

Hermione thought it over then replied, "You're an arrogant git, but you're still human." She didn't mention that she pitied him, he was obviously tormented by something, probably with whatever being a Death Eater involved. Her skin suddenly crawled. _I'm alone with a Death Eater! _After the shock of the sudden realization wore off, she realized that she felt perfectly safe right now. As long as she didn't raise his temper like that day in the corridor, but Draco lounging in his rumpled casual attire with heavy shadows under his eyes and asking about her hair didn't threaten her.

"You pity me, I can see it in your eyes sometimes." He said sharply, not looking at her. "I don't need your pity. It doesn't do any good and it's degrading."

Hermione blushed yet again, but changed the topic by asking, "Why can't you sleep?"

"Nightmares." Draco muttered after a few moments of silence. He silently cursed himself. He shouldn't have been so honest, it would just lead to more obnoxious questions.

"What about?" She asked, curious at the shadow that fell over his handsome face.

"Tsk tsk, not your turn, Granger." He scolded, wagging a finger as if lecturing a child.

Hermione huffed and slipped under her covers to get more comfortable.

"You're going to sleep in your uniform?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That counts as a question! And I'm not going to change in front of you, Malfoy."

Draco rolled his eyes. "As if I'd want to watch _you _change."

His comment stung Hermione for some odd reason, but she chose to ignore it and ask her next question.

"Why aren't you playing Quidditch this year?" She asked again. She really wanted to ask about his abused body and his evening on the Quidditch pitch, but she knew it'd be wise to hold off.

Draco sighed theatrically, "You're the 'brightest witch of our age'? Obviously If I'm too busy to do Transfiguration homework then I'm too busy for games." He thought a moment as Hermione drummed her fingers on her stomach. "Why are you so vexatious?"

Hermione just snorted. "_I'm_ vexatious? Sure. How many OWLs did you receive?"

"Nine. Seven outstandings and two exceeds expectations."

Hermione blinked in surprise, and suddenly Draco wasn't Malfoy, he was a fellow student, and an intelligent one at that. "Er, that's really good. How long did you study for? Did you use a homework planner? I didn't need one, but I think they're marvelous nonetheless. Do you remember the fourth to last question on the Potions exam? I think I answered it wrong, I believe I got dried horsetail and leather leaf fern confused. How did you answer that question?"

Hermione looked over at Draco expectantly, only to find that although he was still in a sitting position, his head had fallen against the wall and his mouth was slightly opened. He'd fallen asleep.

Hermione studied him for a while. When his huge, offensive, petty mouth wasn't talking and he wasn't sneering or smirking or scowling he looked like any other 16 year old. Besides all the scars and bruises, of course.

Suddenly Hermione was determined to find out what he was up to, no matter what it took.

* * *

**A/N: Hello! So Hermione's starting to see as Draco as an actual human... They've still got quite a while to go, though. What'd you think?**

**ps. The next chapter is another one of my favorites! (yay!)  
**


	11. Night Terror

**Warning: Contains blood and great angst.**

* * *

_Draco stood in the dim Sytherin common room, the air so frigid that it reached his bones. His parents were bowed at his feet, hiding their faces against the hard, unforgiving floor. Someone slid behind Draco, and despite not being able to see him, he know it was the Dark Lord. Cool, damp breath grazed his neck as The Dark Lord whispered, "This is your doing. If you hadn't been so cowardly... If you had been more diligent, this all could have been avoided. Now, you must reap the consequences of your failure." Draco felt the Dark Lord disappear from behind him. Suddenly his body was not his own._

_"Go on, make them _bleed_." A voice, too deep to belong to the Dark Lord, hissed inside of Draco's head._

_To his immense horror, Draco raised his wand and pointed it at his father. He fought to keep his arm by his side, but failed. "Sectumsempra." He heard himself whisper hoarsely, and his father crumpled, bleeding so profusely that Draco was soon standing in a puddle of it. His stomach churned horribly, and he suddenly felt very small, very frightened, and strangely... omnipotent. His own father, the most powerful man Draco knew besides the Dark Lord, was at his mercy. The thought both amazed and terrified him.  
_

_"Very good. Now, your mother. The woman who brought you into this world, the woman who has protected you from your father."_

_Draco began to weep, unable to speak his plea out loud, and his arm trembled tremendously as he tried to regain control of his body. "S- s- sectum... sectumsempra." He finally choked out. His mother sprawled next to his father with a choked cry, their blood mixing and creeping across the ground._

_"Don't worry, my boy. They are not dead. Merely harmed. But you can change that, Draco." The voice purred. "This man, the man who calls himself your father, what has he done for you?"_

_"He- He's taught me magic." Draco said quietly, staring at the black blood curling around his feet and seeping into the hem of his robes.  
_

_"Ah, yes. He taught you magic. Do you remember your first lesson, Draco? Yes, you do. I can tell. How old were you, Draco?"_

_"I was six years old." Draco replied, unable to ignore the questions. _

_"What happened during that lesson?"_

_"Father got angry with me. I wouldn't sit still."_

_"Yes. That is right. What did he do when you refused to pay attention?"_

_"He punished me." It was said simply, it didn't matter any more._

_"He punished you. And what happened after that day?"_

_"W-we continued our lessons. I got rebuked harshly if I wasn't satisfactory."_

_"Mmm. True, true. I'd say he over stepped boundaries at times."_

_A gasp sounded from the ground and Draco's eyes flashed to his fallen father who was struggling to roll onto his side._

_"Draco, son, it was all for you. You needed to be prepared... Think about what you're doing. Please, let your mother and I go." _

_His mother drew a shuddering breath and moaned without lifting her head, "Draco, my love. _Please_. Please." Draco realized with a sickening jolt that her words were choked and warbled because her own blood was threatening to drown her._

_Draco trembled and let out a pitiful whimper. He bit his lip as tears began stain his cheeks, tracing down his jaw and chin and another mournful whimper escaped him. He looked down at his pale, bleeding parents, his thumb stroking the dark wood of his wand. It would be so easy to just cure them. His father wasn't all bad. He bought Draco anything he wanted, and he always encouraged him to better his magic, and celebrated greatly when he did, Lord knows Draco would have once given anything to be just like him. And his mother, Merlin, he loved her. Yet, he could not raise his wand. _

_"Draco, do not think of these things. This man- your fahter, if you could call him that, has caused more harm than good. He probably asked the Dark Lord to mark you."_

_Draco felt an unnatural fury in his stomach that burned through his veins and without thinking he attacked his father with the cruciatus curse. As the curse hit the older wizard, a scream rang out, filling the room and sending icy pricks throughout Draco's spine. He spun around to see Hermione standing there, her small hands clutching her face as she stared at the scene in front of her. Her dark eyes met Draco's light ones and a look of horror and disgust crossed her face._

_What was she doing here?_

_"You… you monster!" She shrieked. "Those are your parents! I knew it. I knew you were nothing more than a barbaric, inhumane, cowardly Death Eater!"_

_Draco visibly flinched at her cutting words and sobbed out, "No. No, you don't understand! I don't have a choice. Let me explain- please!"_

_But then Hermione was laying bleeding on the floor, and Draco looked down to see his wand pointed at her._

_"What have I... Oh why? Help me, please, oh please!" He wailed, tearing at his hair. He was unable to crumple to his knees as he longed to do, to lay in their blood alongside them, to die with them._

_The blood from the three bodies in front of Draco began pulse out rapidly, filling the common room with the thick, fetid liquid. Soon the room was full of bleeding bodies, all them people Draco cared for. He saw Blaise, Goyle, Crabbe, Professor Snape, Pansy, his two aunts and several people from his childhood... all bleeding but breathing. Their eyes were all wide and empty, and occasionally one would whisper or choke out his name, or plea to him for mercy, or accuse him of his failure and weakness. And Draco was left standing in the middle of them all, unable to look away, unable to save them, unable to join them.  
_

_"Draco. You can prevent all of this. No one has to suffer if you just complete your task. Now, as a reminder: finish them off." The Dark Lord murmured, stalking delicately through the people strewn on the ground. And to Draco's despair, the thought thrilled him. And that it in itself made him loath himself with a crippling vengeance.  
_

_Draco shouted in protest, but his wand was raising... aiming..._

The unfamiliar sound of shouting woke Hermione from her sleep with a jolt. Confused about her whereabouts, she shot up, struggling to get her bearings. It didn't take long to figure out where the commotion was coming from, Draco lay thrashing on his cot, yelling out, "No! No! Stop! I'll do it! More time! Please- begging you!"

Hermione, not thinking about the fact that he was an enormous git who bullied her and her friends for sport, stepped out of bed and quietly knelt down next to Draco. She gently tapped his shoulder and whispered, "Hey, it's ok." And was rewarded for her tactics by a fist barely missing her jaw.

Draco sat up, panting and sweating, unable to fully leave the lurid nightmare. He stared at Hermione with wide eyes and said hoarsely, "What are you doing here?" He reached out as if to touch her collar-bone where she had been bleeding just seconds ago, but stopped. "Y- you're alright?"

He buried his face in his hands and tried to calm down his heart. It was just a nightmare. But this one was different. He'd been behind the wand this time, they'd been begging _him_ for their life, not the Dark Lord. And Hermione... she'd never entered his nightmares before. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a foreign hand stroking his hunched over back. He stiffened under Hermione's touch, but he didn't pull away.

"What was happening?" She asked, this time not out of curiosity but because it always helped her calm down to process her nightmares out loud.

Draco just shook his head, he was still living in his nightmare, could still smell the blood and hear the moans. At the moment, he was too distraught to be embarrassed by his situation.

"What time is it? How long have I been here?" He asked. Hermione looked at his watch that sat on the bedside table. "It's almost midnight, about an hour since you fell asleep."

Draco sighed, that was good. He had made progress with the wardrobe less than twelve hours ago. He still had time.

"Do you need anything?" Hermione asked gently, still trying to soothe him. Draco glanced at her and muttered, "Why do you bloody care?" Now that some time had passed, he was beginning to feel abashed about his actions.

Hermione frowned. "I just do."

Draco pushed her hand from him roughly and looked away as he snapped harshly, "Even if I did need help, I wouldn't look for it in a mudblood."

He felt Hermione draw her hand away quickly and he imagined the hurt her eyes would hold. Maybe she'd even cry. Good, she deserved it.

"You're an unbearable bigot!" She breathed then stormed out of the room. Draco shuttered and let his head fall into his hands.

He couldn't believe she'd just witnessed one of his night terrors. Hermione Granger of all people. And she had the audacity to touch him! Why had she been there? In the infantry, in the nightmare?

* * *

Hermione walked quickly down the corridors, fuming. To think that she had tried to comfort him, despite all he'd done... and he'd responded as if she'd greatly insulted him! Yes, she was furious with Draco, but she was even more upset with herself for expecting him to act any differently.

* * *

**A/N: I was going to wait to post this, but I couln't! Well, I could, but I didn't want to. The next chapter will probably be up next Monday instead of the usual Friday, just so you know.**

**Your thoughts? Opinions? Let me know. **


	12. Devious

It had been a couple of days since the night in the infirmary, and Hermione couldn't keep her thoughts away from Draco. Something very serious was going on with the young Death Eater. Seeing his scarred and bruised face had alarmed her, but hearing him cry out in fear as he slept, begging for mercy, really unsettled her. The unshakable Draco Malfoy, pureblood snob and bully extraordinaire had been utterly vulnerable for a few minutes, and she had witnessed it.

During dinner, Hermione sat next to Harry, giving up her usual spot by Ron, and returned his greeting. She'd been considering telling Harry and Ron about Draco, but Harry had enough on his plate and she wasn't sure what would benefit from telling them.

Also, she didn't want to talk to Ron.

She was pulled from her thoughts as Harry not-so gently set down his fork and glared across the Great Hall to the Syltherin table. He turned to Hermione and Ron and whispered, "Malfoy's not here _again_! I'm telling you guys, he's up to something."

Ron sighed, this was a very familiar scene. "Mate, if the ferret doesn't want to eat then that's his problem."

Harry shook his head and said, "No, I'm sure he's planning something. He's been missing from classes, too. And you saw his face right?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah... but what do you want to do? Ask him nicely if he'd like to explain himself?"

Harry scowled quietly. "If only I could. You know Malfoy, though, he'd probably try to hex me into next week, let alone give me a straight answer."

Ron looked thoughtfully to the windows and exclaimed, "I know! We could use Polyjuice potion again!"

A shudder ran through Harry as he remembered the putrid potion. "Er... I'd rather not. And besides, I never see him hanging around anyone anyway. Maybe Veritaserum?"

"There's no way of telling when or what he's going to eat, and even if we did know, how would we get it to his food? Then there's the question of getting him alone long enough to question him." Hermione's sudden involvement in the conversation shocked the boys, for they'd forgotten she was with them. Hermione's face heated as the pair continued to stare at her incredulously. Not wanting to admit that she'd been thinking of ways of getting answers from Draco, she muttered quickly, "I mean, think about it. It's kind of obvious."

Just then, Lavender Brown skipped up to the trio and squished herself next to Ron. "Ohh, hello, my hungry lion!" She cooed, clumsily running her fingers through Ron's messy mane.

Ron pulled away slightly and shot Harry a desperate look. When it became clear that his friend wasn't going to get involved, Ron mumbled something about leaving a book somewhere and excused himself only to be followed by the adoring girl.

Harry and Hermione continued to eat in silence, both thinking of Malfoy. Harry suddenly dropped his fork again and exclaimed, "My map! If we can figure out where he is, that will solve half our problem."

"Good thinking." Hermione praised, leaning forward as Harry spread the map out between them. They studied the map for a few minutes in silence, trying to discern the mass of footsteps from each other. Twice, Harry thought he saw Draco's name, but it was just some kid named Drake Macoy. Harry was too thrilled to have Hermione helping him to question her sudden interest in Malfoy.

After nearly ten minutes Hermione straightened up and sighed, "He isn't here. He's not in the school."

Harry continued to stare at the map, his green eyes darting from room to room. "That's not possible. We're not allowed to leave without supervision." He muttered as he ran a hand over his hair in concentration. He looked up at the staff table to see all the professors in their seats.

"He's got to be here... but if he's not, where is he?" He mumble to himself.

But Hermione wasn't paying attention to her puzzled friend. No, her mind was working, fitting pieces together, retrieving paragraphs from past textbooks, analyzing and searching until it hit her. She knew how to figure out what Draco Malfoy was up to.

"I'll see you in Transfiguration!" She called to Harry as she dashed from the Great Hall, leaving Harry alone and confused.

Hermione practically ran to the seventh floor and began to quickly pace back and forth thinking,_ I need a place to hide something. _On the third time, a familiar, dark door appeared. Silently cheering, Hermione slipped into the dark room.

"Lumos." She whispered, and began to pick her away through the piles and messes, trying to gather her thoughts. She made her way around a prodigious mountain of chairs and stopped abruptly when she saw the light of another wand a ways in front of her.

Both owners of the wands jumped, startled to be found in company.

"Er, hello?" Hermione tentatively asked, unable to see the other person's face. She heard a deep voice swear, and the light moved a bit closer.

"What the hell are you doing here, Granger?" Draco hissed. Hermione's blood ran cold. The last place she needed to be was in a dark, unknown room with the guy who hated her... especially if he found out why she was there.

"I was looking for something I, er, left in here." She answered, holding her wand higher, hoping to see his expression, but he remained in the dark. He held his wand low so that she could only make out the folds of his shirt and his neck.

"Well _Accio_ it and get out." He growled.

Hermione felt uncomfortably warm. "I... I can't." She lied.

"Then _leave._"

"This room doesn't belong to you, Malfoy. Why are you in here any way?" She said boldly.

"Merlin, Granger! Get out before I throw you out!" Draco shouted, unnerved that she had walked in on him repairing the Vanishing Cabinet.

Hermione flinched at his booming voice, she'd never heard him shout in anger, he was usually too controlled for that.

"Or what?" She challenged, scared but becoming irate.

Draco waved his wand, and Hermione heard the sound of a couple of heavy objects sliding across the floor away from the pair.

Hermione remembered that there were a few torches along the wall, so she uttered a spell and the room lit warmly, casting everything in an orange almost-light. There Draco stood, his school robes abandoned on the floor, leaving him in his rumpled white Oxford shirt and slacks. His face was set in a furious grimace as he snarled, "What the fuck do you want?" He took a couple of quick steps towards her as if he was going to shove or hit her, and Hermione instinctively took a step back.

"I..."

"Can't you just mind your own damn business? Why are you so keen on sticking your ugly, unwanted nose in my business?" He took another step so that she was within arm's reach and gripped his wand tighter.

Hermione brought her wand slightly in front of her and swallowed her nerves. Would he really hurt her? He looked mad in the eyes, and she wasn't sure he had any better judgement at the moment. And after the night in the infantry... Oh Merlin, Hermione had no doubt that he wouldn't have any problem injuring her.

The door suddenly swung open and Professor Trelawney stumbled in, an empty bottle of sherry in her frail hand.

"Oh Godric! Wh- what are you... erm, what are you two doing?" The intoxicated witch slurred, obviously having a hard time following a thought.

Draco curse under his breath and stalked towards her.

"Oh! Hello, there! You... er, you must be... I see death!" Her dramatic statement was cutoff by her hiccup, and Draco grabbed her upper arm without pausing his angry stride and quite literally threw her out of the room.

He closed the door and turned back to Hermione. "You want to be next, or are you going to leave?"

Knowing she had lost, Hermione edged towards the door, pausing when she was next to him. "You know, It's time for your detention."

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Your Gryffindor 'bravery' is going to get you into trouble one day."

Hermione reached for the door but stopped when Draco hissed, "Wait!"

She was about to open it anyway, but she heard Harry talking to Trelawney and stepped back from the door. She didn't want him to know about her plan because he'd want to get involved. And when Harry got into something he tended to lose all self-preservation and logic, and Hermione didn't want him to ruin her plan.

Eventually the professor and student left, giving Hermione an exit.

She went down to McGonagall's classroom, and was surprised to find the Transfiguration professor there. She was even more surprised when Draco showed up ten minutes later.

The night was a very quiet, stiff one.

* * *

_A/N: What do you think her plan is? I'm curious to see how many people figured it out. I really struggled with this chapter, but lucky for me, once I got started the characters sort of wrote themselves._ _ I hope you don't mind reading from Hermione's view point, I don't plan on doing it often._ _I'm super excited for the next chapter.  
_


	13. The Truth is Rarely Pure & Never Simple

**A/N: Thank you, StoryWriter831 for reading this over and giving me your valuable advice and opinions.**

**Also, I'm so grateful to those of you who take the time to review, and I'd love it if you'd sign in so I could reply to your questions and comments.**

* * *

It was late at night and Hogwarts sat quietly, sleeping along with its inhabitants. Draco slipped through the halls, making his way to the library for a book in the restricted section. At the sound of sharp voices hissing, he stopped and drew himself against the stone, holding his breath as he waited for the owners of the voices to move on.

After several minutes, it became evident that they weren't going to leave so Draco crept forward to catch who was discussing what at this hour.

"You must stop it! He's only a boy!" Draco recognized McGonagall's voice, betraying her anger at something.

"How do you suggest I do that, Minerva? Did I not just tell you about the vow?" Professors Snape's deep voice rumbled, betraying no emotion.

"As I see it, that vow makes you both as good as dead."

Draco's curiosity peaked.

"There's more to this situation that you do not- that you cannot understand. Do you not trust Dumbledore and his faith in me?"

"Would I ask you to get Draco out of this if I didn't have some trust in you?"

Draco nearly spluttered out loud in surprise, but he caught himself and refocused on the professors.

He heard Professor Snape let out an exasperated sigh.

"Nothing is that simple."

"Then I'll just have to ask the headmaster to do something about it."

"Do you honestly think Dumbledore isn't aware of this?"

"Is there a way to shorten his father's sentence in Azkaban? Perhaps he could find favor again until we defeat You-Know-Who. Or possibly he could persuade Draco to join the Order for his own safety?" McGonagall stumbled over her words, grasping at any idea that crossed her mind. The fear and sympathy in her voice was foreign to Draco, but he wasn't thinking about the elderly witch. Surely they weren't talking about _his_ father. He had just seen him a couple of weeks ago... But hadn't she just mention Draco by name?

"Salazar! Do you hear yourself? Have you the slightest idea of what you've just suggested? Have you absolutely no faith in Dumbledore? I assure you the headmaster knows what he's doing. "

"Are you telling me that you're willing to let the boy die for his father's transgressions? He's only 16!"

"You've never cared for the child before, Minerva."

Draco heard McGonagall take a shaking breath and when she spoke it was clearly through clenched teeth.

"A child is a child, Severus, no matter how mislead and unbearable."

"Ah, yes. Your compassion... It will be your downfall." Severus growled with a hint of distaste. "I've told you, the boy will not die."

"Haven't you just said that he's been given an impossible task in order to fail in death as a punishment to his father?"

Draco suddenly found himself sitting awkwardly on the floor, his knees painfully under his body and his back slumped against the wall. In normal circumstances he would have been furious for being referred to as a child but...

The vanishing cabinets... they were... He was working towards his... death?

"And haven't I also just said to trust Dumbledore?" Snape snapped, growing irritated.

Draco's heart was thudding and his head was swimming. Had he heard correctly? He was meant to _die_? Because of his father's mistakes? The father who was now in prison.

"I'm meant to be in the dungeons." Professor Snape murmured after a while of silence.

"Yes, of course. Good night, Severus." McGonagall said briskly.

Draco heard Snape walk away and sat in stunned silence. He had been working for _them, _his parents. He had endured torture by them_ for_ them. And they... they allowed him this futile, hopeless task. They allowed him to stay, to work towards his own eradication.

If Draco had peered around the corner he would have noticed he was not alone in his grief, for the old Transfiguration professor was standing where Snape had left her, one hand on the stones for support, the other resting lightly over her lined mouth. She had come to confront Severus about the odd shadow that had fallen over his face several weeks ago at the mention of Draco's abused body, the shadow that told her he knew something she didn't. Severus hadn't been completely open with her, he only shared that made an unbreakable vow with Narcissa Malfoy to protect Draco, and that he was being punished for his father's failure to successfully retrieve Harry Potter's prophecy, but she knew there was a missing piece that he'd failed to tell her. Still, the thought of a student, a young boy, being played like some marbled pawn- played unexpectedly to his end, sicken her. She knew she should have faith in the headmaster, but as more days passed the more it seemed a realistic possibility that the good guys might not win this time.

After a long while, Draco's anger and anguish threatened to devour him so he stumbled to his feet and staggered through the corridors, unaware of where he was going. His legs struggled to carry his weight, causing him to falter and occasionally fall.

Finally he stumbled into an empty room, a bathroom. The need to release some of his inner turmoil came out in a hollow, echoing moan.

_How did I get into to this?_

How could his parents have been so horribly wrong? The Dark Lord wasn't someone to admire, someone to aspire to. True, he wished to exterminate the vermin of the wizarding world, but he didn't care about his people, about his supporters. He would have killed them all if he didn't need them. The Dark Lord wasn't venerable, he was a great force to be feared, to be avoided. And instead of running away, his parents had run right to him.

"You were supposed to protect me!" Draco shouted, shooting a blast at nearby mirror.

"That's what parents _do_!" Another mirror shattered.

"You should be helping me, not harming me!" His voice cracked on the last syllable as another mirror exploded, sending a storm of glinting shards to the floor with a ringing crash.

"You're supposed to love me," he said in a shaking voice, and he put all his hurt into destroying a stall.

"Do you mind?" A whiny voice snapped.

Draco jumped, startled to hear a girl's voice in the empty bathroom.

"I know I may be dead, but even ghosts like to pretend to sleep at this hour!" A ghost of a girl floated in front of Draco, her arms crossed.

"That's ridiculous." He snarled.

The girl's eyes flooded with tears and she sniffed, "You don't know what it's like, being dead."

"Obviously."

He turned to leave, after his episode he was feeling quite worn, and he just wanted to sleep this night, maybe even this life, away.

"Why are you so angry?" The girl giggled, sliding next to him.

"Because you won't stop talking."

Again the blasted girl's eye filled with tears. "I just thought you might want someone to talk to."

Draco looked through her absurdly thick glasses (do ghosts even need glasses?) and into her large, watery eyes. Her face was quite annoying. "I don't need anybody to talk to." He growled.

"Could have fooled me. Would you rather continue to scream to yourself?" She leaned close to his ear and a whispered, "People might think you're crazy." Then she let out another grating stream of giggles. "Is that why you have parent problems? Do they think you're looooooney?"

Draco felt a flash of fury at the ignorant, unstable, dead girl, but in a corner of his mind he thought, _If only it were that simple._

"Shut up!" He shouted, aware of how childish he sounded, but the pent-up tears of the last couple of months were already staining his cheeks and he just wanted _out_.

He heard Myrtle gasp and her own eyes filled with tears. "What's wrong?"

To Draco's horror, his tears came faster, making him unable to lash out or even reply. Pretty soon he was sobbing so hard that he was crouched on the floor with his head pressed into his knees and his arms cradling his head, unable to speak or breathe easily. Myrtle sat next to him, cooing soft nothings into his ear as he wept. And he wept. And wept. He wept for the betrayal he felt, and for his father. Because although Draco hardly respected him anymore, he was alone, locked in a cage with those God-awful dementors. And he cried for his mother, his strong, beautiful mother who was now alone in that horrid house. She was abandoned, alone in that dark, evil house...

After several hours and a couple of naps from Draco, he stood stiffly, fixed the mess he had made with a few flicks of his wand, and started to leave.

"Wait!" Myrtle cried out. "Y- you'll come back won't you? I get so lonely."

Draco silently scoffed. The ghost had worst mood swings than Potter on a bad day, and she talked too much. He was also uneasy that he'd fallen apart with her, but she was dead, right? What did he care about a dead, ugly girl's judgments on him?

If he never had to see Myrtle again that would be more than alright with him. He gave a non-committal shrug and left without a word.

After he left the bathroom, Myrtle smiled to herself. She had just spent the night with a boy! And a cute one at that. Well, maybe he was a bit too skinny... and his forehead was a bit large for her liking. Also he talked too much about himself, she hadn't been able to get a word in all night! But he had stayed _all_ night... with _her_! She let out a "whoop" and did a cannon ball into her toilet.

From the bathroom, Draco went to the passageway he used to sneak to hogsmeade, only he didn't walk through it. Instead he lay down on top of his robes for some relief against the cold floor and curled into himself. There he stared at the face of darkness and allowed it to fill his mind.

* * *

**A/N: Draco needs to stop destroying bathrooms, eh? Ah, depression. What a monster. Hey, thanks for reading! Just thought you should know that I appreciate it. Also, there's a kiss next chapter! It's my gift to those of you who are craving some romance.**


	14. O Tyrant Love

**A/N: A grand thank you to StoryWriter831 for reading this over for me and helping me with the Slytherins.**

* * *

Hermione and Harry were meandering the grounds, bundled up from head to toe despite the warming charms Hermione periodically cast.

"Do you think we should go to Slughorn's Christmas party?" Harry asked glumly, pulling at a dead leaf as they passed under a tree.

Hermione scowled. Her and Ron were supposed to go together, but that was before Lavender painted herself into the picture.

She sighed and said, "I really don't see a way out of it. There's no liable excuse for us not to go, and it'd be rude to not attend."

"Yeah." Harry agreed dejectedly. Suddenly he grabbed her elbow and began to steer her urgently to the lake. "Er, let's go see the lake! I heard the Squid turns blue if it's cold enough."

Hermione's steps hesitated. "That's ridiculous, Harry. It's comprised mostly of fat that's covered in a thick, coarse-Oh."

She stopped her lecture when she heard Lavender call, "'Mione! Harry! Wait, we can walk together!"

Hermione gritted her teeth and growled to Harry, "Why does she insist on calling me that absurd nickname?" Harry just shook his head as he and Hermione turned to face the obnoxious girl.

"Hey guys." Ron muttered, trying to wrench Lavender's hand from his pocket.

"Hey." Harry returned, obviously uncomfortable with the situation.

"'Mione, we have _got_ to get together and talk hair for the party! Have you gotten a dress yet? I bought mine back in October, it's the most dazzling shade of yellow and it's got these sleeves that..."

Hermione stopped listening and idly thought that there was absolutely no shade of yellow that was pleasant, yet alone "dazzling." She looked across the frosted grass and saw Cormac McLaggen rough housing with some other boys a way off. Merlin, he was such a prat: bossy, loud, crude, self-absorbed. And Ron could not stand him.

She was pulled from her thoughts when Lavender grabbed Ron's head and brought his surprised mouth down to her own. Harry took a step back and muttered under his breath, "For Godric's sake..."

Spinning on her heel, Hermione marched the short distance to Cormac and his entourage. When they saw her approaching they immediately became more rowdy, shouting as they dogged fists and dirt clods.

When she reached them, she cleared her throat and said, "Hello, Cormac. How are you today?"

Cormac released his grip on a smaller, red-faced boy and stood up straighter.

"Hey, what brings you over here?" he asked, flashing a crooked grin. He was handsome enough, with a strong jaw and thick hair, but his teeth were stained. Hermione swallowed her reserve and put on a stern façade.

"I wanted to ask you something, but I'd like to do it without an... audience."

After many insults and some more flying dirt, it was just the two of them, though when Hermione glanced over her shoulder she saw that the trio she had left behind were slowly making their way to her.

"You know, you look good outside. Like, I usually see you in the library. But yeah."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and instead said bravely, "Would you like to accompany me to Professor Slughorn's party?"

Cormac gave her another unpleasant grin and said, "You've seen me play Quidditch, huh? I'm great, I know. Better than Weasley."

Getting impatient and not wanting her "friends" to hear the embarrassing conversation, she said, "Yes. Really great. So you'll go with me then?"

Before she could react, Cormac grabbed her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her. She pulled back before a full second could pass, but a miniscule part of her brain, the tiny part that made her a teenage girl thought, _Good, there's no way Ron didn't see that_.

"Hermione!" She heard Ron shout, no doubt fuming.

"I'll see you at dinner, Henrietta." Cormac said in a low voice, his eyes absorbing her in an unflattering way, and with that he ran off to romp with his buddies.

Hermione was left with her mouth opened in silent surprise. It hadn't occurred to her that he might not know her name. And she was to spend a whole evening with him and his unreserved eyes and gross teeth... What had she gotten herself into?

"What was that!" Ron hissed has he turned Hermione around to face him. "You can't just go around and snog dumb blokes, I mean-He-That is-What the bloody _hell_!"

His ears were a dangerous shade of red that matched Lavender's face, and Harry wore a soft scowl as he watched the pair, wishing Ron wasn't so dense and Hermione not so stubborn.

"I wasn't aware I had to ask your permission to date, _mum_." She pulled her arm out of Ron's grasp and stormed away. Maybe, just maybe, putting up with Cormac would be worth it if she could make Ron feel the hurt she felt.

* * *

Draco blinked against the darkness. He felt as if he were waking up from a deep sleep, but he knew that he had been awake. Awake, but not conscience. He'd spent his time staring blankly at the thick darkness, a body without thoughts, though where his mind went, he couldn't tell. It simply ceased to be.

He shifted on his weak nest of robes as he became aware of himself once again, and tried to swallow away the sour staleness that had settled in his mouth.

With his awareness of himself came the awareness of the past night. Was it last night? He hadn't the slightest clue of how long he'd been there, days? Hours? A few minutes?

And with his thoughts came a wave of self loathing. Draco honestly hated himself. The very thought of his existence made him feel ill.

Draco noticed he was wrapped in his own feeble embrace, and a silent voice in his head told him that it wasn't his arms, but his mother's.

"Look at you," he murmured against the black veil, his voice so quiet he wasn't sure if he'd thought the words or spoken them.

"Cowering in the dark. What are you doing here?" he whispered.

He paused and thought about it. Why _was_ he tucked away in a dark passage, alone? Because he needed to get away, he couldn't process everything, it was too much.

"So you decided to hide in the dark like a scared little Hufflepuff? Real brave of you, Draco." he sneered to himself.

"You know what?" he said calmly, slowly getting into sitting position.

"Screw you."

Something constricted painfully in his chest. When the world turns against you, all you have is yourself. You send soft thoughts of comfort to your heart, soothe the ache with that's gone, once you succumb to the mindset of others and hate yourself... What is left? Nothing. Unloved by everyone.

Draco sat on the floor, he was going to leave the dark passage way, but he found that he had neither the motivation or energy to do so. He sighed and leaned his head against the cool wall. This wasn't right. This wasn't his life. His life was easy, pleasant, mapped out. Not this chaotic, despair ridden plight.

He transformed his robe into a cup that looked more like a shallow bowl and _Aguamenti_ed some cool water for a drink. Although he hadn't eaten in over a day, food sounded so unappetizing that he didn't feel any hunger pangs.

After some "hide and go seek" with his thoughts, Draco dragged himself into a standing position and opened the door. The halls were dim and void of life. He tried to calculate if he had been in the passage way for a couple of minutes or a whole day, but there was no way of telling from where he stood. He stepped out of his asylum and made his way to the Slytherin common room, hoping that a shower would wash away his headache.

When he opened the door, he faced Pansy slouched on a couch, wearing her fravorite green silk bathrobe. As Draco stepped in, she straightened up and gave a coy smile.

"Hello, Draco." she purred.

Draco ran a frustrated hand through his matted hair.

"What day is it?" he asked, ignoring her greeting.

She gave him a pout and said, "It's Monday, the second of December, of course! Where've you been? I missed you in classes."

Draco was almost shocked. A whole day in a hole. Then he realized that he'd missed an entire day of classes. He'd have to fix that, he had to stay in school or he'd lose access to the cabinets.

"Crap." he muttered.

"Don't worry, I told the professors that you were ill. Snape vouched for as well, oddly enough."

"Right, good." Draco mumbled unsure of how to respond.

"You know, it's a bit chilly over here." Pansy simpered, drawing her knees closer to her body.

Draco glared at her. He couldn't deal with her and her games, not tonight.

"Add to the fire." he said calmly, taking a step from his place in the door frame.

"Do it for me? I'm so comfortable right now."

Draco openly rolled his eyes but complied, hoping to end their conversation. He knelt in front of the fireplace so that his face was lit with eerie green highlights and muttered a spell until the flames arose, dancing and snapping with a new vengeance.

He stood up started to walk towards the showers, passing Pansy as he did so.

As he stepped around the corner of the couch, Pansy's arm shot out and grabbed his forearm, right above his Dark Mark, and yanked him down with surprising strength so that they were intertwined awkwardly, Draco half way on the floor and half way atop of Pansy.

"Merlin's warts, Pansy! What the heck?" he growled, trying to stand up, but she locked her arms around his neck and unadroitly pulled him the rest of the way on the couch.

"Come on Draco, I know you miss me as much as I miss you," she breathed, feathering kisses along his neck, "That night of the Halloween ball... Oh Salazar, I miss you."

Draco shook her hands off of his shoulder and growled, "I was drunk and you know it."

"You're not drunk now." she whispered, and leaned up into him, sealing his mouth with a kiss.

He thought about shoving off of her, or insulting her to get her to leave him alone... But her kisses, hungry and deep, full of nips and licks, along with her tangy scent was so familiar... So normal and even pleasant. They took him back to a purer time, summers at the manor playing Wizard's Chess and stealing shy pecks on her cheeks. A time where he actually felt something for her, at the time the feelings were exciting invigorating, as were his view on the world.

Eventually he matched her eagerness, trying to stay in the past, intertwining her hair with one hand while the other flattened itself against her shapely hip.

She sighed against his moist lips and started to unbutton his shirt as he showered pecks against her ears, lips, and jaw.

"What the hell!"

While Pansy flinched at the interruption, Draco lazily looked up to see Blaise standing at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the boy's dormitory, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Do you mind?" Draco sneered, gesturing the disheveled girl he was straddling, who was uncharacteristically blushing.

"Get off of her." Blaise said coldly.

Draco sat up and positioned himself at the feet of Pansy, who was straightening her robs and running her fingers through her hair.

"What's the matter, mate? Feeling threatened? I don't see why you should, it's not like you have the guts to pursue her."

Blaise glared at the pair and bit, "She was _supposed_ to be my date to Slughorn's Christmas party."

Pansy let our a small sigh and muttered, "Blaise-"

But Draco's resolve faltered and his eyes narrowed as he interrupted and asked, "What Christmas party?"

"Does it matter? Why the hell do you think it's ok to waltz in here after being missing for an entire day and acting like we're just dust under a rug all term?"

"Damn it, Zambini, what party?" Draco snarled. It seemed trivial that he cared so much about a simple holiday festival, but old habits die hard. How did he, Draco Malfoy, not know about this party? He belonged to one of the wealthiest families in the wizarding world. His father had history with the ministry of magic, if there was a party a professor was throwing, Draco still expected to be involved.

"Professor Slughorn is throwing a party for his elite students." Blaise said, crossing his arms and watching Draco's brow furrow.

"But that's absurd, he knew my-"

"I told you before. He doesn't want anything to do with the son of a death eater."

Draco stood up abruptly and said coldly, "Don't interfere with what you don't know."

"You know what? You're right. I don't what's been going on with you, but I do know that you're into some serious shit, and you better start acting like it. And I also know that it's messed up that you're using your 'friends'-" He gestured up at the boy's dorms and Pansy, "to cover your arse. Take your own advice and grow a pair, Draco! Salazar, I swear if you-"

"Leave me alone." Draco snarled, taking a step forward.

Blaise crossed his arms and snorted, "What's your problem? You want to be left alone but as soon as something scares you or you can't handle it suddenly we're supposed to waiting on you hand and foot? Do you know how crass is?"

"Blaise, don't." Pansy warned, standing up.

"Enjoy your slut, I'm leaving." Draco spat, wheeling around and storming out the door, leaving Pansy ashamed and hurt and Blaise furiously trying not to hit anything.

Right outside of the dungeons Draco paced back and forth, seething. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed them. He needed to befriend them again so that they'd continue to cover for him. Why was his whole life dictated on the wants and needs of others? Swearing, he hit a nearby wall with his palm, creating a dull smacking sound. Why did he need them? Was he really going to continue his mission when he knew that the end would result in his death? He swore again. How could he not continue? He couldn't justify giving up his parent's lives for his own, and there was nothing stopping the Dark Lord from killing all of them, himself included, if he quit. He shook his head as if too cleanse his mind from his brooding thoughts and began to wander the corridors, planning.

Every successful man has at least one back up plan, so Draco created his. He needed to get invited to the Slug Club Christmas party. If he had professors wrapped around his finger that would mean if something went wrong and he was sent to the ministry for questioning, he'd have good testimonies. Slughorn was the perfect and easiest choice.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, causing him to flatten himself against the wall. After a couple of seconds Granger strode by, looking trouble. She was in the Slug Club... and she was a mudblood. He could use her to get into the party and be applauded for accompanying a muggle-born. It was disgusting yes, but he'd rather spend one night with her than a life time in Azkaban.

"Wait, Granger!" he hissed, stepping out of the shadows.

She jumped in surprised and raised her wandlight to see his face. "What are you doing out of bed, Malfoy? It's past curfew."

He waved away the question and drew himself to his full height, recalling what his mother had taught him-shame it was being wasted on _her_. He gave her a false-shy smile and said grandly, "I was wondering if you'd have the pleasure of attending Slughorn's Christmas party with me."

"No."

His smile fell to scowl and he asked incredulously, "Why on earth not?"

She looked at him in a way that made him wonder if he'd suddenly become a blast ended skrewt, and answered, "I honestly don't have the time to list all of the reasons, but I already have a date."

Draco shrugged, "So, dump him and go with me."

"You also smell horrid."

Draco realized that he hadn't gotten the chance to shower and wondered why Pansy hadn't said anything. He glared and said stiffly, "Fine. No skin off my back." Then turned and stalked back to the Slytherin room, hoping the others were asleep so he could catch a shower.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter title from Jean La Fontaine. **I know, not the kiss you were expecting, but I have to get some practice in before Draco and Hermione kiss. This is the longest chapter I've written, and they'll continue to be around this length because if I keep them as short as they were this thing would be a bazillion chapters long. Also, I hate writing these in bold because I feel like I'm yelling at you, but when I italicize, I feel like I'm speaking all fairy-whimsically. Also, how much am I allowed to swear before I have to rate it M?**

**Anyway, I hope you like it, please feel free to leave your feedback, comments, questions in a review.**


	15. Though This be Madess, There is Method

**A/N: Thank you again, dear StoryWriter831, for giving me your feed back on this.**

Arithmancy is a form a divination where numbers (1-9) are assigned to letters. A person's number is their first and last name's numbers added together and simplified. Bob Wu would be 2+6+2+5+3=18 then 1+8=9, so Bob is a 9. Each number is a personality type that can be used to predict things about people.

* * *

It was quiet. So quiet that Draco swore he could hear the wicks of the candles crackle as they burned.

He let out a sigh and looked at his watch. He'd only been in detention for 22 minutes. 98 more to go.

It felt wrong to be sitting quietly when his father was curled up in some dank, hellish cell, his mother surrounded by vile, nefarious Death Eaters, and the vanishing cabinet sitting quiescently, waiting for the day it was repaired.

Deciding it was better to do something productive rather than to torment himself with thoughts and fears for two hours, he dug into his school satchel and pulled out his Advanced Arithmancy book and some parchment.

He flipped through the pages until he reached the page he left off on and began to read the scenario:

_A woman with the seven lettered name beginning with the letter V and ending with the vowel E is about to encounter two men, Burmond and Markus. In a two roll essay, determine the possible relationships between the woman and the two men.  
_

Draco re-read it and thought it was funny that anyone who walked in would think he was a normal teen studying. They wouldn't know about the mark on his arm, the way he thought about his parents until even his dreams were plagued with their harsh faces and cruel whispers. Although, sometimes their faces were vulnerable and their whispers pleading... He resented that he still cared for them when they obviously didn't care for him.

Not one note. Note one care package.

He sighed again and looked over at his dull company. She was reading and chewing her lip nervously. When he looked closer he noticed that her eyes weren't moving along the words, but staring fixedly at the page. Something was bothering her and stealing her thoughts.

Merlin it was _so_ quiet! Could he really hear her teeth tug at her lip or was he picturing it?

Deciding that the dead room would drive him mad before the Dark Lord did, he said snidely, "You're going to chew a hole through your lip if you keep chomping at it like that. The last thing I need is to have your stinking blood all over the place."

He sat waited for her response but got none. Damn it. Was it too much to ask for a simple conversation? The last one he'd had was nearly a week ago with Zabini, and that wasn't so much a conversation than an argument. A very one-sided argument.

"You know beavers chew wood to shorten their teeth? Is that it? You don't have wood so you're using your lip?"

Again silence.

Draco glowered to himself and returned to his homework. If the lady had seven letters in her name...

Why couldn't he figure it out? He used to fancy the subject; he liked the way it worked like a puzzle. All it required was basic rules, careful thought and patience and then it all worked out. But for some reason this prompt just wasn't clicking. He glanced at his watch again to find that only 10 minutes had passed. Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

He couldn't make it 88 more minutes. He needed to be stimulated somehow or he was going to lose it.

He cleared his throat and waited for Granger to look up. She ignored him. He ran a hand through his hair and thought, _do I really want to do this? Am I this desperate?_ Yes. He was. He craved a neutral conversation like a dog craves a bone. He also needed to convince her to take him to the Christmas party. He cringed inwardly as he realized how careless his last two comments were.

He cleared his throat again and said, "Granger."

Hermione lifted her eyes to meet his and raised a quizzical eyebrow. Her gaze seemed hesitant.

"Explain this to me," he said as politely as he could, though it was through gritted teeth, and pointed at his book.

Hermione fought a smirk and said, "I'm not sure beavers are skilled at Arithmancy."

Draco felt a niggling of irritation and said, "I never called you a beaver. I said your teeth resemble that of a beaver's. Explain this."

Hermione put her book down and said slowly, "That sounded like a command. Not a question."

Draco was surprised to see a wary kind of diffidence about her, but he supposed after shoving her into a wall in the autumn and shouting at her in the room of requirement he had managed to chip off some of her annoying chutzpah. He scowled at her comment, but to have someone look him in the eyes without contempt was... assuaging. But that was beside the point. How was he supposed to manipulate her if she was so stubborn and unbearable?

"Explain this now?"

To his surprise and disdain the witch let out a short snort of laughter. He hadn't made anyone laugh in months.

She stood up and pulled a desk next to his and sat down, suddenly all business.

"What are you working on?"

Draco tried not to lean away from her as he pushed the book towards her.

"Prompt D."

She read it over silently as Draco sat rigidly and tried to think of something charming or witty to say. He couldn't believe he'd sunk this low, but it would be worth it of he could pull it off.

She straightened up and brushed her hair over her shoulder, giving Draco a whiff of her scent. It was... Nice. He'd always imagined that she smelled like soil or dusty robes, but she smelled... warm. Like gingerbread or cinnamon and vanilla.

Draco shook his head. He really must be losing his mind if he was willingly inhaling Granger's fragrance.

"Ok, so first," she grabbed his parchment and quill, "we are going to make a list of all of the possible names for the woman."

She began to jot down names such as Victore and Vecente. When she put down Valantè, Draco interrupted and snorted, "Those are absurd! Real people don't have those names. And Vecente sounds like a bloke's name."

Hermione didn't look up as she wrote down a few more wacky names. "Yes they do, you've just never met any of them."

"Probably because they're hiding from embarrassment." Draco muttered, and Hermione suppressed a smile as she wrote down _Verable_ and scolded, "It's not their fault their parents named them what they did."

Draco rolled his eyes but stopped when he saw the growing list of eight names.

"This will take forever!" he snapped crossing his arms and slouching in his seat, greatly resembling a pouting three year old.

Hermione sighed, "We won't add anymore names, I can't think of another one anyway. So, set up the number chart. You know how to do that, right?"

Draco reached in his bag for a new quill and mumbled, "Of course I do. Just because I had trouble getting started doesn't mean I'm a bloody first year."

"Alright, I leave you to determine their numbers, then." Hermione said, standing up to return to her own desk.

After several minutes had passed and Draco had double checked his numbers, he began to read their meanings.

He stared at his paper and let out a small sigh. He shouldn't be wasting his time on homework, but he had no choice.

"Are you finished with the meanings?"

Draco jumped in startlement and hit his knee painfully on the desk.

"Geez! Do you mind?" he hissed, trying to subtly rub his aching knee.

"Sorry," she muttered with a frown as she read over his paper.

After some time, she gave a curt nod. "Yes, you got their numbers correct, so now you have to make inferences and think through scenarios."

Draco glanced at her. "That's ridiculous. Schoolwork shouldn't be full of opinions and 'could be's-there should be a solid answer."

Hermione gave a slight shrug, still studying his results, and said, "Life isn't full of concrete, black and white answers. It's good for students to be prepared for this kind of thinking.

"Alright. So Burmond is a 6 and Markus is a 2. If the woman's name is Victore then she's also a 2. How do you picture two 2's and a 6 and a 2 interacting? If it helps, Ron and Harry are 2's."

Draco snorted and replied, "Then Victore and Markus would have a swell time creating stupid predicaments and being attention whores."

As Hermione let put an irritable sigh, Draco mentally scolded himself. If he wanted to use her to get into the party he needed to step up his game.

"Well," he said slowly, closing his eyes and bracing himself, "2's are loyal, caring, and generally well balanced while 6's are personable and basically nice, easygoing people. I think the two and the six would have a better relationship because although they're similar, they have subtle differences that the 2 will enjoy."

He opened his eyes to find Hermione nodding in approval.

She glimpsed through the book and found another prompt further down that looked fun.

"Are you supposed to do prompt G?" she asked, hoping he was so she'd have an excuse to work on it.

"Not until next week," Draco said carefully, trying his hardest not to snap or growl.

Hermione smiled. "We still have about an hour. Let's work on it."

Draco leaned back to look at her and said, "'Let's' as in you and me? I don't need your help. But I guess it'll go faster if you're working on it too." he quickly corrected as he saw her crestfallen expression. Merlin, he didn't know if he could continue on like this.

The assignment was simple but lengthy, asking about the relationships between several pairs of numbers. The first pair was a 3 and 5. Draco and Hermione thought for a while before Draco started writing his answer.

"What are you going to say? If you don't mind telling me." Hermione asked, trying not to peek at his parchment.

"A 5 and a 4 are a disastrous pair. Where a 5 is flighty and unpredictable, a 4 is steadfast and reliable-the 5 would drive the four insane. The 4's logic and organization would be suffocating to a 5. Both have a nasty temper which lead to relentless arguments," he explained as he wrote, then added as an afterthought, "I'm a five."

"Valid points, but they also have complimentary traits. The 4 would bring structure and balance into a 5's chaotic life whereas a 5 would be able to coax a 4 out of their comfort zone with their energy and spontaneity." Draco considered her reasoning then gave a nod. "The 5 would irritate the 4 though, because he's conceited and inconsistent, and the 4 would bother the 5 because he'd see her as a competitor. However, both are passionate and intellectual which would keep the relationship interesting and toxically engaging."

"That makes sense." He added her words to his previous paragraph.

The rest of the evening was spent with Draco rolling his eyes and trying, with little avail, to not be too much of a prat. He wrote down personality clashes and compliments with Hermione prompting him with situations and aspects he neglected to consider. By the end of detention Draco felt socially satisfied though a bit worn down from biting his tongue for so long.

As Draco packed up his parchments and ink, Hermione realized that she still held the quill she had plucked from his desk earlier. It was beautiful and smaller than most, only about the length of a hand. The lush feather was an emerald green that glinted teal when the light caught it and it was capped with a dull silvery point. It looked stately and beautiful as well as enigmatic and masculine. It was no wonder it belonged to a Malfoy.

As Draco started to leave, Hermione stopped studying the quill and said, "Oh, wait! You forgot your quill."

Draco scrutinized the small utensil that was grasped between her fingers and scowled. That was his favorite quill, but her noisome hands had been all over it. He wanted to burn it, or demand that she dispose of it, but instead he shrugged and managed to say, "Do whatever you want with it." After a pause he added with the best smile he could muster, "Have a nice evening."

He made his way to the library thinking that he'd definitely need to do better. He had the perfect plan.

* * *

After Draco left, she placed the quill safely between the pages of her book and made her way to the room of requirement. As she walked, she thought about her evening. What were the odds of that problem asking about the relationship between a five and four? It was uncanny, really, that she happened to be a four.

Letting thoughts of Arithmancy and Draco slip away, she continued on her way. She'd been planning on continuing her search for a while now, since Malfoy foiled her first attempt. As she jogged up a flight of stairs, she mentally noted that she'd found him twice in the room of requirement.

Once she was tucked inside and sure she was alone, she pulled out her wand and murmured, "_Accio_ Advanced Potion Making"

Immediately, dozens of books flew at her from several directions, leaving her sprawled on the floor with her hands covering her head.

"Ow," she mumbled as she sat up and examined a bruise a book had left on her shoulder.

"Should have seen that coming," she grumbled to herself as she began to pick up the books and flip through them. After several minutes, she'd looked at every one and hadn't found what she was looking for. She stood up and tried a new approach. "_Accio_ Half Blood Prince's book?"

Nothing happened.

Thinking it was the lack of conviction in her voice, she repeated the spell with more confidence. Nothing.

She gritted her teeth and marched out of the room, leaving the potion books strewn around. If the book wasn't in the room of hidden objects, there was only one other place it could be. With Harry.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter title from William Shakespeare** Oh, Harry didn't listen to Hermione-tsk tsk. Please, leave a review with your thoughts, I'd love to hear them. Also, I'd like to thank all my new (and old) story followers-y'all are the best!  
**


	16. Love Must be Sincere

**A/N: Thanks once again to the brilliant, exceptional StoryWriter831**

* * *

Draco was sitting in transfiguration with an exam in front of him. The exam that would determine if he had to continue his detention or not.

He'd been staring at the sheet for no less than 20 minutes, a mental ping-pong of thoughts stealing his attention.

If he passed the test, which he could easily do, then he'd have the grades to remain in school- an essential part to his task. He'd also get out of detention which would mean more time to spend repairing the Vanishing Cabinet.

The choice seemed easy. Obviously he should pass to ensure the Dark Lord's will was done. However, the selfish, Slytherin part of Draco wanted to fail the test so he could stay in detention and persuade Hermione to take him to the party that could lead to his redemption if he ever got tried in court.

Draco ran a hand through his hair. He decided to pass, he needed to stop playing with fire. As he bent his head down to mark the correct answer, his hand froze.

His parents were wrong about one aspect of the Dark Lord, could they be wrong about another? Draco had come to realize that he wasn't the noble, wise being his parents worshiped, what if they were wrong about his power as well? He undoubtedly had a lot of it, but what if he didn't win the battle? If Potter won and the ministry got a hold of Draco, who would testify for him? Snape, if he wasn't imprisoned by then, and who else? Nobody. Draco would be left to rot in Azkaban.

"Damn," he muttered, laying his head down atop his exam. Why was he forced to make these hard decisions?

He concluded to aim for a _P_, showing enough improvement to protect his grade but still require "help".

With a jaw aching yawn, Draco determined how many questions he needed to get correct in order to pass.

That evening, Draco showed up to detention and was greeted by McGonagall.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy. How are you?" she asked in her clipped tone.

Draco grunted in reply and sat his bag down on a nearby desk.

"Since you're here, would you like to know what you got on the test?"

He shrugged and noted that Granger hadn't shown up yet.

"You got an acceptable. Quite the improve-"

"What!" Draco shouted, his heart racing in panic.

McGonagall shot him a stern glare and chided, "If you're quite finished interrupting me... although you technically passed, I'm having you stay in detention with Miss Granger to ensure that your grades continue to improve until they've reached their full potential."

As Draco scowled and leaned down to get a book out of his bag, McGonagall caught not only a look of relief on the boy's face but also a long, scabbed-over mark on the back of his neck, reminding her of the condition he'd been in a few months back. She let out a nonexistent sigh. It may not be much, but she was doing the little she could to help keep him safe.

Before the elderly witch could get lost in her quandaries and concerns for the troubled Slytherin, Hermione rushed through the door and panted, "Sorry I'm late! I got held up with something."

McGonagall gave her the warmest near-smile Draco had ever seen on her weathered face and said, "Quite alright, I'll leave you two to work, then. I'll be with Professor Sprout if you need me."

After she left with a flourish that seemed to scold the air, Draco gave Hermione a tight-lipped smile and said pleasantly, "Hello, how are you this evening?"

Hermione situated herself a few seats away from him without an answer.

"There's no need to sit over there, here's a seat closer to me," he said, unsure why she ignored his greeting.

"That's alright. I'll sit here until you need assistance with something," she replied distractedly, pulling out a scroll that was undoubtedly an essay.

Draco scrunched his face at her bent head. Obviously his subtle approach was too subtle. He mentally gathered himself, sent a silent apology to Salazar, and said slowly, "Granger, clarify this for me."

He pushed out the chair of the desk next to his with his foot in invitation.

Without looking up from her scribbling, Hermione muttered, "I'm sure if you re-read it you'll understand."

Was this witch a pile of mud? She had about as much insight as one.

"Granger, I-" he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and gagged out, "I really need your... help."

It was the truth, Draco thought, he did need her help. Not with frivolous things like essays and equations, but with the possible outcome of his future. The thought made him even sicker to his stomach. A mudblood? His fate possibly rested on a _mudblood_? Weren't they what got him into this mess in the first place? If there were no abominations to nature, e.i. mudbloods, then couldn't the Dark Lord just rule the wizarding world without trouble? If only purebloods belonged, the Dark Lord wouldn't want bloodshed, right? What was it that the beast always said before killing one of his followers? Right: _every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste._

Draco thought back to all the nights he would sit crouched under the stairway to await his father's arrival, cramped and cold but needing to see his father before he could fall asleep. Some nights his father would stumble in through the floo intoxicated and angry or solemn and quiet. There, his mother would find him before long. Draco didn't know if she too waited for him or if she could sense when he needed her. Once in a while his father would fall into his mother and start mumbling stories- memories really, of his time withe the Dark Lord all those years ago. At the time, Draco didn't know what was going on, he simply heard of good people doing bad things and fear and pain. Perhaps that was why Draco waited for him under the stairs. Those nights he saw his father as he was: a man. Not a good man, not a bad man. When the daylight returned, however, so did Lucius and his power, and Draco would regard him earnest respect, fear and dangerous longing. He did not know that the pain in his father was caused by the Dark Lord, he didn't know until he'd met him face-to-face. Now, Draco had seen just a glimpse of what the Dark Lord was capable of, and it was... well, evil. Pure evil.

No, Draco rationalized, the Dark Lord would be this barbaric even without the existence of mudbloods.

He was brought back to the present to find Hermione studying him openly, her head slightly tilted and her lips pressed together. Draco cleared his throat and said shakily, "Want to sit down?"

She took the seat he offered and said briskly, "What are you working on?"

"I-well... Pardon, what?" he stammered, still struggling to clear his head of his heavy thoughts.

"You said you needed help?"

"Oh, right. It's Muggle Studies."

"You have Muggle Studies?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

Draco scowled and said, "It's got mostly Slytherins in it this year. Probably Dumbledore's idea of a joke."

Hermione hid a smirk and asked, "What's got you stuck?"

"I'm supposed to write as if I'm a muggle getting ready for school." He said, hiding the distaste in his voice.

She began lecturing on making beds, brushing teeth with something called a toothbrush, "They use the same one daily? That is disgusting!", making cereal, and all the other ins and outs of muggles' mornings.

When she finished, Draco gave her a closed lip smile and said, "You know, that was very, ah, interesting and helpful, you really are quite bright, aren't you?"

"Yes, it would seem that way, wouldn't it?" she said impassively. "Why don't you start writing?"

Draco growled to himself and began writing as he thought. Apparently the act of being _nice _was wasted on her, as well as comments on her intelligence. What could get her to de-thaw towards him? Surely not... compliments? It was worth a try.

Draco studied her out of the corner of his eye while she retrieved her bag and moved to sit next to him again. What could he compliment? Her hair was a disaster, her eyes weren't anything special, she wore ordinary school robes, her teeth- well, actually they were quite white and straight, smaller than he remembered, too.

"Granger, your teeth look smaller than I remember, they seem very healthy." Draco held his breath as he waited for her to swoon. Sure, it wasn't the best compliment, but it had to count for something, didn't it?

"They are, thank you. Have you finished?" she replied, studying her scroll.

Draco angrily continued to write, at a loss of what to do with the witch next to him. He began to think out his next move. How would he treat Pansy? He'd just kiss her. That was obviously and most definitely out of the question... what did he do with Pansy before their "relationship" turned physical? He spent time getting to know her before he started pursuing her earnestly.

"So Granger, are you going to the Hogsmeade trip this weekend?" he asked.

"Yes." She peeked over at his parchment and pointed to a word, "It's refrigerator, not refridgorater."

How was he supposed to know that?

"That's nice that you're going. I'm planning to go as well. Are you going to shop or just hang around?"

She shrugged and pointed to another word, "What's this supposed to be?"

He looked down and said defensively, "A skullbuss, you said that most students ride one to school."

Hermione unsuccessfully tried to hide her snickering. "A school bus," she corrected, saying each word slowly.

"It's not my fault you talk so fast," he mumbled. This detention wasn't going as planned at all. To hell with it, he didn't have endless weeks to woo her.

He turned his face so he could see her better and pretended to study her. Really he was noticing how she had an ink smudge on her nose, a stand of hair stuck to her dry lips and slight bags under her eyes. This girl had a date to the party? Unbelievable.

"You have the most stunning eyes," he lied in a soft murmur. Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up.

"And you have the most stunning inability to focus. Finish your essay."

* * *

Late that night, hundreds of miles away from where Draco sat hopeless and panicking in the Room of Requirement, his mother paced her lonesome bedroom in a similar fashion. The bedroom was much, much too large this night. Narcissa's sad footsteps echoed teasingly off the bare walls and her and Lucius' bed seemed to taunt her. To show her as it did every night what she was without: a husband. A son. A family and a home.

With a wild screech, she grabbed a black vase that always sat on her bedside table and hurtled it against the wall. The sound was so unforgiving and harsh it startled her, and she worriedly wondered if anybody had heard her outburst. But, no. She was so secluded and alone that the crash wasn't heard, just as her cries weren't.

Slumping to the floor, Narcissa cradled her head in her hands and began to bitterly weep as she did every night. When had the Dark Lord gone from a leader, a messiah type, to this? To ripping her husband away and stealing her son? Her only son, Draco. She whispered the name into her hands to guarantee it still existed.

"Draco. Draco, _Draco_. Oh Draco, my love, my heart! I'm so very sorry."

What was he doing right then? Was he sleeping peacefully in his dorm? Was he working on homework? Flirting? Playing? Talking? As much she longed for him to be doing those things she knew the realistic questions to ask.

What was he doing right then? Was he struggling to stay awake? Was he plotting his murder of the headmaster? Working on the cabinet? Crying? Fighting? Screaming?

Did he hate her?

That was the question that haunted her.

How she regretted not doing anything the day the Dark Lord had the Death Eaters punish him! The memory of his hovering body dripping blood onto the wood in front of her, the way his eyes had sought her downcast ones and his screams of agony, his shouts of plea... it made her physically ill. She had been afraid then. Afraid of the Dark Lord killing her, but now that the months had passed she would give anything to go back in time and stop the torture of her child. What good was life if it was lived like this? In this hell hole of biting memories there was no life worth living.

And to think, she had been too lost in fear and self pity to even check up on him, to send a note, a gift.

She was done crying on her floor in the embracing darkness, Draco needed to know that they would get out of this mess... together.

Wrapping a wool cloak around herself protectively, she slipped out of her bedroom for the first time in months and made her way to the kitchen.

"Chocolate pudding, cream crackers, and pumpkin cake with chocolate shavings," she rehearsed to herself, not only to remind herself of his favorite treats but to silence the quiet.

Once she got to the kitchen, she was dismayed to find no elves present.

She turned to leave but instead clenched her hands into fists. This was _her _kitchen. So what if it took several hours to make the sweets? She could do it, and if a Death Eater found her in here then they could just let her be because it was her house, her kitchen and her son.

Taking a steadying breath, she began to summon cookbooks and ingredients while being as quiet as possible. As she was finishing up her second attempt at the cream crackers, the kitchen door swung open and in stepped a thin, sickly Death Eater.

Narcissa dropped her mixing bowl in surprise and began to stutter, "I- My apologies! I just-"

"Why are you so afraid, Narcissa?" the man asked, picking up the bowl from the floor and setting it on a nearby counter.

"I'm not afraid, " she said bravely as she took a step back. She was terrified. She knew what these men were capable of, for she could hear their conversations and actions some nights.

"You haven't left your room in months. We're not all horrific. Lucius and I are friends, I told him I'd keep an eye on you," the man said.

"No, you're all horrific, some of you are just less so."

"Think what you may. I think you should go back to your room, though, it's not exactly safe for you to be out her alone during the night."

Narcissa felt angry tears burn in he eyes as she snapped, "Fine!"

She couldn't do one simple thing for Draco.

Locked back in her prison, Narcissa angrily stripped her bed of all its coverings and emptied every drawer of its contents until she fell into an exhausted sleep filled with her son's angry eyes and her husband's slumped body.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter title from Romans 12:9 "Love must be sincere. Hate What is evil; cling to what is good." **Sorry it's been awhile, I needed to sort myself out a bit. Leave a review and tell me what you think.**


	17. Conflict, the Beginning of Consciousness

**A/N: A thanks to my new beta, brainandheart **

* * *

"Harry Potter! What on earth is that book doing in your bag?"

Hermione and Harry were standing in the Gryffindor common room, getting ready for their Hogsmeade trip the next morning.

Harry had been digging through his school satchel for a money pouch he believed he had left there when Hermione caught sight of a familiar blue spine: _Advanced Potion Making_. Although she knew he hadn't gotten rid of it like she'd asked, a part of her had hoped he'd gotten rid of it by means other than the Room of Requirement. Throwing it in the lake, perhaps, or burning it.

"Hermione, it's just a textbook with notes. He's not doing anything wrong, he's _helping_ me!"

Hermione crossed her arms and said resignedly, "You talk like the book is an old friend. You're not doing yourself any favors, you know."

Harry straightened up from his bag and tried to stretch his back. He shot her a sheepish grin and said quickly, "I got an _O_ on my last exam; I wouldn't be able to do that without the Prince."

"Yes, you would! If you just studied a little harder," she said in exasperation.

"Look, I really don't see the harm in it, Hermione. I'm going to keep it, so just let it be, all right?"

Hermione bit her lip in quiet frustration but didn't say anything. She knew she wasn't going to convince him right now.

"You haven't seen my pouch, have you?" he asked her, running a hand over his hair in an unconscious attempt to smooth it.

She strode over to an over-sized chair he had claimed as his own and picked up the sweater he'd left lying there for several days. Reaching into the pocket, she pulled out a small leather bag that jingled as it was removed.

"You left it in your pocket again," she told him as she held it out.

He flashed her a smile and said, "Thanks. You always know where to look."

"Of course," Hermione chided playfully. "I know everything."

After she had helped Harry find everything he needed for the morning, she lay in her bed and thought about Draco.

She needed to find out what exactly he was doing. She had planned on using the Half-Blood Prince's book to brew Felix Felicis, hoping that the book contained secrets to a faster brewing, but now she realized how many flaws lay in that plan. She began to make mental list of why the textbook was a bad idea. Lists always helped her process.

1. Harry had the book.

2. It would be hypocritical of her to use the book, even if she did have access to it.

3. She didn't trust it.

4. It was very rare to be able to speed up a potion's brewing time; the book might not contain what she was looking for.

Hermione let out a sigh and rolled onto her side. Was it really that important to figure out what Draco was doing? She thought for a bit then concluded that it was. He was a Death Eater. He was a henchman for the most powerful and execrable wizard of all time. Hogwarts essentially had a walking, murderous robot, but... _Was_ he murderous? She thought back to all their encounters over the past few months. He had been hostile and spiteful, yes, and he'd been close to hexing or harming her on multiple occasions. He was probably dangerous to the other students, Hermione decided.

Except... He _hadn't_ hexed or harmed her. And when she had looked at him, really looked at him, she didn't see a soulless monster, she saw a disconcerted boy, a pained teenager, a trapped man.

_Harry would tell me that I'm reading too much into it, and that I'm being too compassionate_, she thought. Maybe hypothetical Harry was right. Could she really tell if Draco was dangerous by his appearance and actions? What if Voldemort had him under specific orders to behave in that manner?

Hermione let out a groan and rolled onto her other side. Why was she spending so much time thinking about this?

_Obviously_, she thought, _I'd rather be safe than sorry. And if I look at the facts, I have more reason to be wary than to let it go_.

Who knew if Voldemort would have Draco attack Harry or Dumbledore? Of course, they could easily defeat Draco in a duel, but it'd be better if it didn't come to that.

As Hermione was contemplating whether to give up on the idea of sleep and read or stay and try to doze off, an idea slipped into her mind. She could buy the Felix Felicis. Of course, it was banned at Hogwarts unless authorized by a professor, and average stores didn't sell it, but she was sure that there was a little store across from the Hog's Head that would. It looked shady enough, at least.

Hermione bit her lip in the dark. She hated decisions like this. Honestly, she would be protecting the school if she figured out if Malfoy had an order from Voldemort, but at the risk of lying and breaking the rules. It was worth it, right?

_Right._

* * *

The next morning the front steps of Hogwarts swarmed with students being poked and prodded by Filch, who was taking his job of searching them so seriously that it would have been humorous if it wasn't so annoying. The third years didn't seem to mind this procedure, for they bounced around each other, some from excitement and some from nerves, as the older kids stood off to the side, embarrassed for them. Hermione would have found their excitement contagious if she wasn't sick to her stomach with guilt and apprehension.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" Ron asked when he noticed her close her eyes and take a few deep breaths. Her stomach twisted. Stupid Ron and his stupid concern with those stupid blue eyes.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, before turning to Harry to ask him some meaningless question so she wouldn't have to keep looking at Ron.

When she faced Harry, however, his eyes were hard and his mouth formed a tight frown. Hermione didn't have to follow his gaze to know that Malfoy was sauntering down the steps.

"Professor McGonagall, he can't come!" a fourth year shouted, pointing at the tall Slytherin. Draco strode past the boy and shouldered him aside, making the younger boy stumble back.

"You know what happened last time!" another student called, as others stepped away from Draco, giving him a wide berth.

"Everybody on these steps is going to Hogsmeade," McGonagall snapped, and no one argued.

"I can't believe they're letting him come!" Harry hissed. "I'm going to go talk to her."

Hermione agreed with Harry; after Katie Bell was cursed in October, everybody was wary of Draco because they assumed it was his doing. She hadn't believed it was him until she saw his Dark Mark. Now she supposed he was capable of a lot more than she originally thought.

As she trailed after Harry, she noticed Draco sitting a couple of steps behind McGonagall; it almost looked like he was using the professor as a makeshift bodyguard. He was scowling as usual, but the washed out sky and frosted grounds complimented him, he looked less pale in comparison and his silver eyes seemed to be the darkest thing about him and his surroundings.

"Professor, I really don't think bringing Malfoy is the best thing to do," Harry was saying as Hermione stopped scrutinizing the brooding boy.

"Mr. Potter, that's not for you to decide," McGonagall replied distractedly, peering over Harry's shoulder to count students.

"Yes, I know, but he cursed Katie. Don't you think—"

"Who on earth is Katie?" Draco drawled as he stood up to his full height and slowly stepped closer to the trio.

"As if you don't know!" Harry growled, clutching his wand in his pocket.

"Potter, if you don't take your hand off of your wand immediately you'll be staying on these grounds today," McGonagall scolded, and Harry complied, though his hand still lingered near it.

"I don't have time to referee a foolish duel between you two; I need to go find Rubeus. If either one of you so much as spits at the other it'll be detention all day with Professor Slughorn," McGonagall said before whisking away, confiscating a Fanged Frisbee as she went.

As soon as she left, Harry said, "I know it was you, Malfoy."

At the same time Draco turned to Hermione and said with a small smirk, "Hello, Granger. Nice scarf."

Hermione glanced down at the crimson scarf Mrs. Weasley had knitted her and said with a pointed look, "Beautiful color, isn't it?"

"We're not talking about her scarf right now, Malfoy. What did you do to Katie and why?"

Draco flicked his gaze to Harry's stern face and said with a sneer, "Delusional, are we, Potter? Did the train ride rattle a few brain cells? Not that you had many to begin with."

Harry's cheek tinged pink out of anger more than anything else, but Draco's craving for embarrassment was lost, for Hermione knew about Draco Stupifying and kicking Harry, and Harry simply didn't care anymore.

"I'm going ask you one more time!" Harry shouted.

Draco crossed his arms and smirked. "Say please."

Harry whipped his wand from his pocket in a split second, and Draco followed suit.

"Harry, don't. Not now," Hermione interjected, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Harry shot a glare at Malfoy and said, "I know you gave Katie that cursed necklace, and you'll pay for it."

Draco raised an eyebrow and tucked his wand away. "And when was this?"

"As if you don't know! Everybody knows you gave it to her on the last Hogsmeade trip."

Hermione saw Draco's smug smirk falter slightly.

"I didn't go to Hogsmeade in October, you arse. I stayed at the school for detention."

Harry scoffed but didn't reply. He knew this, of course, but he still wasn't convinced that Draco was innocent. Whatever was going to be said next was cut short as Ron made his way towards them.

"We're not finished here, Malfoy," Harry said, turning away from him.

Hermione turned to follow but Draco surprised her to a stop when he stepped with her.

He glanced down at her and said, "Let's walk together."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let's not."

"It's a long way, and it can get boring if you don't have company," Draco argued.

"I hardly count you as 'company'," Hermione snorted, turning and walking away from an irritated Draco.

She didn't trust him, simple as that. She had looked at the facts and deduced that the odds were against him.

"Let me carry your bag." Hermione turned to see Draco easily catching up.

"I have arms," she retorted.

Draco scowled and exhaled slowly, as if trying to remain calm, but he stayed quiet, following her like a stiff shadow.

As the peculiar pair reached Harry, Ron and Lavender, Ron immediately stepped up to Malfoy and growled, "Get out of here, git. And leave Hermione alone."

Malfoy looked at the Gryffindors with mild interest and interrupted Hermione's sharp answer to Ron as he drawled, "No, I think I'll stay. Granger and I here are going to spend a bit of time together."

Hermione spun around to set him straight, but Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the group.

"Hermione—"

"No, absolutely not!" Hermione objected, catching on rather quickly.

"Please, Hermione! If you spend some time with him maybe you'll be able to figure out what he's up to."

After a couple seconds of silence Harry quickly added, "Me or Ron will always be a couple feet away in case—well, nothing's going to happen."

"Harry, I spend two hours with him in detention every night! I'm sick of him, and I think I'd know by now if he was suddenly going to open his heart to me."

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important," Harry said softly.

She felt a twinge of guilt that she was investigating Malfoy on her own, but she honestly believed that for the time being it would be better if Harry did not "help" her.

Hermione thought that maybe it would be safer if Draco had her tagging along all day, so even though she wasn't thrilled with the idea, she let out a sigh and said, "Fine, I'll do it."

Harry gave her a winning grin and let out a breath of thanks.

Hermione marched back to Draco as McGonagall returned with Hagrid.

"All right, students!" McGonagall shouted. "We are ready to head out. Please remember to travel in pairs and be sure that someone always knows where you are. All right then, let's get going."

Harry, Ron and Lavender promptly started walking with the rest of the students, leaving Draco and Hermione alone and a bit behind the rest.

Draco smirked and said, "I knew you'd come to your senses."

"I'm pretty sure I've lost them," Hermione uttered under her breath, and the odd duo started walking together.

* * *

**A/N: **Chapter title from M Ester Harding**. Phew! Not enough Draco, I agree. Hopefully you know Hermione a bit better now. I'm very excited for the next chapter, more angst to come! **


	18. He Who Achieves Much Must Sacrifice Much

**A/N: Thank you very much, StoryWriter831. Your expertise is very valued! And thank you to my beta, Brainandheart.**

* * *

The crisp air was wonderful to Draco. When was the last time he'd been out? He took off his cloak and tucked it into his book bag, just the thin material of his white school shirt between his skin and the sharp breeze. For a moment he forgot about the witch beside him and shut his eyes, feeling his muscles tense and his skin tighten in response to the coldness. The extreme sensation made him feel... human, alive. It would have been enough to make him smile in pleasure if he wasn't so worried about being charmingly amicable to the cutting mudblood beside him.

"I wonder if it will snow?" he murmured to himself hopefully. No, he couldn't hope. Hope was dangerous, without hope there would be no disappointment, and he'd suffered enough disappointment.

"What?" Hermione asked distantly, apparently lost in her own thoughts.

"Nothing."

Reminding himself of his purpose, he asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Hermione glance at him and said, "The effects of Polyjuice Potion if werewolf fur were used."

Draco snorted, "No you weren't. You already know what would happen."

"Oh really? How would you know if I possessed that insight?" she snapped.

Draco shrugged and said, "You claim to know everything."

Hermione spluttered and choked out, "I do not! There's so much I don't know; why would I read if I knew everything?"

Draco just shrugged again and watched her from the corner of his eye. He debated whether to outright flatter and praise her or to act as if they were equals. Wisely, he chose the latter.

After a few moments of stiff silence, he decided to have some fun.

"Where're Potter and the Pauper?"

"I don't know," Hermione said sharply.

"They're right there, see?" he said, smirking. "In front of Longface and next to Looney. Weasley's eating something... Big surprise there."

Hermione followed his outstretched arm and saw her two friends.

"Why do you care where they are?"

Draco gave a tiny, mischievous smile, one that reminded Hermione of third year, right before she punched him.

"Don't you find it odd that I knew where your two numbskull friends were, but you, who have a hankering for the poor Weasley, didn't?"

Hermione's face flushed red, though from embarrassment or anger, Draco didn't know.

"What would you know about my relationships?" she muttered, not looking at him.

Draco left the lazy smirk on his lips as he slowly exhaled, watching his breath stream into the air and disappear in a frenzy.

"Tell me," he said after a while, "What is Pansy Parkinson doing?"

If Hermione was surprised by the new subject, she didn't show it. Instead, she swiveled her head until she found the pug-faced girl and reported, "Nothing, she's just walking alone. No, I think Blaise Zabini is with her."

"Keep watching," Draco instructed, not turning his attention from his visible breath. Marvelous, really, that these little puffs emanating with each word were what kept him alive.

After a few moments of silence, Hermione said hesitantly, "She keeps looking towards us—towards you, I assume."

Draco nodded as if he had expected this and then said, "Now Potter."

She obliged, more out of curiosity than anything else. Unsurprisingly, every few seconds Harry would subtly tilt his head in the direction of Ginny Weasley.

"He's sneaking glances at Ginny."

Again, Draco nodded.

"Don't you find it odd that both Pansy and Potter could pick out one person from this whole group? I'd say you'd have to have taken quite a fancy to someone to search for them in a crowd this size and keep them in your sights enough for _you_ to catch those hidden glimpses, wouldn't you?"

Hermione slowed her stride, looked up at the Slytherin and said with mock innocence, "Why, Malfoy! I had no idea you felt that way about Ron and Harry. To seek them out in a crowd _this size_... You've really taken quite a fancy."

Draco looked down at her and allowed a little smirk to play on his lips. Clever, trying to get him to retaliate and drop the subject.

"You don't have romantic feelings for Weasley."

Hermione's cheeks tinged pink as she said coldly, "You have no say in my affairs!"

Draco shrugged and said, "I think I do when I'm stuck with your brooding company every night. You sit there and mope—"

"I do not mope!" Hermione interrupted.

Draco ignored her and continued, "You sit there and mope and sigh and get you knickers in a knot because he's got a girlfriend, yet you have no feelings for him."

He wasn't sure why he was egging her on like this. Several reasons he supposed: he enjoyed seeing her agitated, he thought he might be able to break the insufferable, sighing Hermione he'd been forced to suffer with during detentions, and he liked showing the show-off that he was better than her at something, even if it was as mundane as observing people.

"Stop talking," Hermione growled, ruffled but not wanting to show it.

"Come on, Granger. Tell me what you like about him."

"I never said I liked him," she said curtly.

"We all know you believe that you have romantic feelings. Indulge me," Draco said airily.

Hermione was going to ignore him, but the temptation to prove him wrong was too strong.

She held her fingers up so he could clearly see them and started counting, "One: He's funny. Two: He's brave. Three: He's kind—"

Draco snorted. "Oh really? He's kind? Do you know how many times I've overheard you scolding him for antagonizing an underclassman? Or for gossiping about some professor?"

Hermione glared at him but had no intelligent argument to offer and no more good things to say about Ron.

Noticing her silence, Draco pressed on. "What annoys you about him?"

_One: He doesn't respect knowledge. Two: His temper. Three: He's a whinger._ Not that she was going to reveal any of this to Draco; he wouldn't understand that everyone had faults.

"Your input is very much unappreciated, thank you," she finally bit out.

Not wanting to push her too far away, Draco changed the subject.

"Oh, look. We're almost there. Which shop would you like to go to first?"

He was half expecting Hermione to snort and march away, leaving him alone and unsure of what to do, but she answered without hesitation, "Tomes and Scrolls."

Draco swallowed his shock at her willingness to stay with him. Could his attempts be working? Could she be warming up to him?

"Off we go, then," he declared, and they set off to the quaint bookshop, earning shocked and questioning stares from nearly everybody they passed.

It was the first time Draco had seen Hogsmeade without snow, and though it was still a picturesque place, without snow it seemed less appealing and jocund. But then again, everything now was unappealing and forlorn.

Once inside the bookshop, they were cozied by towering bookshelves that seemed to insulate them, quietly impressing their titles to the pair, offering words of comfort, hurt, adventure and romance. They were forced closer together by the crammed shelves, and Draco had to grit his jaw shut and repeat to himself, _Pretend she isn't a mudblood, think of what's on the line._

Draco wasn't particularly fond of reading. He would pick up books on dull days in the manor, but he wouldn't consider it a pleasurable indulgence; however, the look on Hermione's face made him wonder what he was missing out on.

Suddenly, she let out a small gasp and rushed past him. She stopped at the foot of a many-shelved case and craned her neck to look up its length.

Standing on her tip-toes and reaching so far up that her shirt lifted to reveal a slit of midriff that to Draco's horror drew his attention, she muttered breathlessly, "I've been looking everywhere for this book! I can't believe they have it!"

Draco strode over to her and easily plucked the book from its high perch. "Here."

Hermione was too engrossed in admiring the cover to express her gratitude.

"What's the big deal about it?" Draco asked, bored already.

Giving a start as if she'd forgotten her company, she answered forthrightly but with wariness in her eyes, "Well, it's a compilation. It contains true stories about successful muggle-borns, muggles involved in the wizarding world, and some stories about witches and wizards who did not learn about their magic until their adult years." She lifted her eyes to Draco's in a silent dare.

Draco thought that the book, _Magic Runs Deeper_, sounded like mind-washing propaganda to make mudbloods feel confident about their place in the wizarding community, but he kept his mouth shut and just nodded at her words instead.

Hermione turned the book over delicately, as if it would fall apart at any moment, and read the back summary. When she'd finished, Draco noticed her bite her lip and slump her head. She affectionately tapped the spine in a gentle good-bye and put it back on the shelf.

"What are you doing?" Draco demanded.

"I—I guess I realized that I didn't really want it," she said softly, looking at her feet.

"Bollocks, you looked happy enough to kiss Snape when you saw it," Draco snapped, unsettled by her dejected demeanor, and upset at his unsettledness.

"I don't want it," she repeated, then turned to leave. Merlin, how could anybody get so upset over a simple book?

Draco balled his fists in frustration and said, "I know you want it, Granger."

Hermione turned around and looked at him. Her disappointment was so visible that Draco immediately thought of a small child who was told for the first time that she couldn't always get what she wanted. It made him angry at her ridiculous attachment.

"I'm not going to buy it right now."

"I'll buy it," Draco offered quickly.

"No. You will not," Hermione hissed.

"Yes, I will," he argued as he grabbed the book.

"Put it down, Malfoy!"

"What? You think I'm buying it for you? I happen to fancy a bit of light reading on Nature's unexplainable."

Hermione turned red and marched out of the store, leaving Draco alone to buy the book. He had no intentions of reading it, however. He was buying it for her, thinking it'd be a good next step for her to invite him to the Christmas party.

"Salazar, let it be worth it," he muttered to himself before finding Hermione waiting for him outside.

A couple of hours after the bookshop, Draco and Hermione were meandering along the streets in silence. Draco kept wistfully looking up as if he was longing for the sky to drop snow before him, and Hermione tried to fight her disgust at him being the keeper of the extraordinary book. To think that his prejudiced hands would turn the pages before her eager ones made her queasy. Would he even treat it right? Even read it?

"Mm!" Draco let out a muffled exclamation around the candy he was sucking on.

He swallowed his treat and said, "I'm going to go into Spintwitches."

"Okay," Hermione replied, seeing her chance to break away from him.

Draco left without another word, thankfully not looking back to see if she was following.

She changed her path and headed to the more suspicious side of the town to buy the Felix Felicis, her curiosity stirred up to an almost unbearable extent.

She had stayed with him and partaken in his unbearable small talk for Harry's sake; if it wasn't for him Hermione didn't think she could have spent almost four hours with Malfoy. He was definitely up to something with the way he offered to buy her random things and spoke pleasantly to her. Shaking her head to clear her over-analytical thoughts, Hermione stepped into the dingy shop.

There was a small, round man behind the splintered counter, and behind him shelves upon shelves of shimmering potions and glinting gadgets.

"Erm, hello, sir," she said, stepping closer the counter.

The man grunted in reply and glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

"I—I was wondering if you had any Felix Felicis for sale?" she inquired politely, praying that he did. If he did not, she could have bought the _Magic Runs Deeper_, but as it was she only had enough money for one or the other and responsibility had overruled pleasure.

"That depends on if you have twenty Galleons," the man said in his grumbling voice.

Hermione gasped and replied, "Twenty? Isn't that a bit... much?"

The man just stared at her.

"All right then, twenty galleons it is," she muttered to herself, digging through her purse.

Before handing him the coins, she asked, "Do you mind if I check the ingredients?" She was spending almost all of her money on the potion and wanted to make sure it was authentic.

The man shrugged and slid the tiny vial across the countertop.

After Hermione had performed the revealing spells and bought the potion, she slipped the vial into her purse and set out to meet Harry, her mind a jumble of Ron, Draco and the potion in her purse.

* * *

Draco stood outside of Spintwitches, fuming. He had lost her! Hadn't she told him that she'd wait for him while he looked at broomsticks?

When he thought about it, he remembered telling her that he was going to stop in, but she had never promised to wait for him, she had simply acknowledged that he was leaving.

What a foolish mistake, to assume the dense mudblood would stick around. He was shocked that they'd spent as much time as they did together, but if she had just walked away like that did that mean that his attempt to, for lack of a better word, woo her had failed?

He raked his fingers through his hair in pique and sighed. Between the Vanishing Cabinets, his parents (or lack thereof), school, and now his muddy situation with Granger, he was nearing his breaking point. Again.

Draco turned to start towards the Three Broomsticks when a low, cracking voice hissed in his ear, "Hello, Draco."

He spun around to see his Aunt Bellatrix standing in her usual way, tall and proud but slightly off center. Before he could pull his wand, she grabbed his arm and purred, "Time to spend some quality time with your favorite auntie."

Then they vanished.

* * *

**A/N: **Chapter title from James Allen


	19. Life is Full of Suffering

**A/N: A HUGE thank you to Storywriter831 and Aya Diefair for helping me with Bellatrix, and of course thank you, Brainandheart, for beta-ing.**

* * *

For a moment, Draco was unsure where his delusional aunt had Disapparated them to. However, after taking in the cool marble floor and high ceilings, he correctly concluded that he was somewhere in the Malfoy Manor.

Fury unmatched by anything he'd felt before flared brilliantly through Draco, leaving a cold, heavy stone of hate in his gut and his vision dark for a minute.

"What the fu–" His verbal attack was sharply cut off by a slap to his face.

"You know damned well I don't appreciate that shat language," Bellatrix scolded before she let out a bark of laughter that fueled Draco's rage even further.

"You had no right to–to..."

_To what?_ Draco thought, _to kidnap me?_ That word could not truly describe what she'd done. Bellatrix crossed her arms and watched in amusement as he struggled to put words to his thoughts.

"... To do that," he finally finished lamely.

Bellatrix's face fell into a mocking pout. "That's where you are wrong, young nephew. You see, I do have a right. I have every right, in fact."

Draco knew she was baiting him, longing for the moment he broke and demanded to know what she knew that he didn't. He wasn't going to give her that satisfaction. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood firmly, unknowingly mimicking the stance his father took when he was out of patience and about to serve a punishment.

Suddenly, his head was full, too full, and claws were digging in, ripping through not his tissues, but his defenses.

"Stop!" he cried, clutching his head. What curse was this? Why did it make him feel so... weak, so vulnerable, so violated, exposed and helpless and filthy?

His aunt cackled in delight. "My, my. You've got quite the mind. It's not like the others'... No, theirs are mazes, compartmentalized blocks stacked haphazardly. But yours... Yours is flat. Open and flat." She licked her lips, "But there are shadows. Deep and wide shadows. I can taste your secrets."

Again Draco's mind was assaulted. He kneeled to the ground and grasped desperately at his hair. He was trying to fight something, yet he didn't know what or how.

Harshly, he was reminded of a lesson he'd had with his father nearly two years back. Draco saw his father pacing and muttering under his breath as a slightly younger Draco sulked on a nearby seat.

_"Just tell me what you did with my pendant," the memory of Lucius said softly but dangerously. The past Draco shrugged and rolled his eyes, "I've told you, I didn't do anything with your stupid necklace... It's not my style anyway." _

_"Do you think this is funny? A joke? I swear, if you don't tell me where the pendant is I'll Legilimens you until I know what routes you use at school."_

_A shadow of confusion fell over Draco's young face. _

_Lucius let an irritated sigh. "For the love of all that is pure and true, what do they teach you at school these days? Legilimens is a spell-"_

The memory was crushed, leaving Draco dazed and disoriented.

"Remember now?" Bellatrix almost sang as she took a languid, yet tottering step towards him.

Draco shook his head to dislodge the feeling of a dissolved memory and gasped, "You did that? That's what Legilimency feels like?"

Bellatrix's wide mouth twisted up at a corner. "Oh no, I was being gentle, helping you to remember something that was only surface deep. _This_ is what it feels like."

All at once Draco's mind was full of ice water, or perhaps a hot balloon, expanding, stretching, burning his thoughts.

He cried out in pain as memories flashed past his mind; his first broom ride, the time broke his mother's mirror and blamed Dobby, his first night with Pansy.

But Draco wasn't remembering, the pictures of his past were being shoved into his consciousness, forcing him to recall. And he wasn't alone in his mind, he could feel Belatrix's mind as well, hunting and ripping through his subconscious.

"Stop! Stop! Get out!" he shouted as she lingered on a particularly licentious memory of him and Pansy.

Bellatrix retreated slowly, leaving him to sort out his thoughts from where she had scattered them.

"No, _you_ have to stop it. That's why you're here, you foolish boy."

Cradling his head in his arms he asked feebly, "What do you mean?"

His aunt staked up next to him and yanked him his feet so he was standing once more. "You're a twat, aren't you? Naïve fool, you're now a service to the all-powerful Dark Lord. He knows things–he knows magic that no other human has even dreamt of. Do you understand? If someone gets into that twisted little head of yours and discovers our master's imminent plans then it could ruin everything!"

"If he's so great, he should be able to succeed no matter what. He shouldn't be shaking about a sixteen year old boy who –"

"Shut up! Shut your disgusting, blasphemous mouth!" she screeched, shaking her wand wildly at Draco, causing him to flinch and earn a smug sneer from his aunt.

"From now on, you're not to speak of the Great One. Only I will mention him during our... Lessons. Got that?" Draco did nothing but glare at her.

Bellatrix began to leisurely stalk around Draco, looking very much like a haggard buzzard about to swoop.

"I'm going to do it again, enter your mind. You need to prevent me from entering, yeah?"

Draco growled in frustration and snapped, "But how –?"

His question was cut off by another invasion. He was able to remain on his feet this time, but she was through being gracious. He knew that she was reaching into his "shadows" as she had called them, and trying to retrieve his most inner, arcane thoughts and memories.

"This looks interesting," Bellatrix purred to herself, and Draco was once again looking at a younger version of himself and his father.

_Lucius' face was calm as always, though his mouth was set in a firm frown and his eyes sparked with anger. Draco knew what Bellatrix had dredged up as soon as he saw his own blanched face._

_"Draco, do it. I just showed you how, I know you're capable," his father instructed sternly._

_Draco stared at up at his father in a horrified, pleading way. _

_"B-but... Those screams..." he objected weakly. _

_"Dammit, Draco! Of course they're going to scream, they're being tortured!" _

_"No. I won't," the younger Draco whispered, shaking his head._

_"You need to learn this," his father snapped._

_"Why? Why do I need to curse a stupid half-blood maid? What good is it going to do? I already know hundreds of hexes and jinxes, I don't need to waste my time practicing one more curse on one more dirty miscreant!" Draco shouted, shaking._

_"You'll do as I say!" Lucius shouted back, stepping up to his son so that they were nearly nose to nose. Draco shrugged back slightly from his father, he wasn't yet his height and Lucius seemed to loom over him._

_"I don't want to!" Draco pleaded, his squeamishness of hearing the maid scream and howl and watching her claw at the air out weighing his fear of his father._

_"Do not disobey me! This is for your own good, _Crucio_!" _

Bellatrix tossed the memory aside and dove deeper into the shadow pool she was occupying, and Draco fell to his knees once more.

Bellatrix intruded another memory, again of him and his father.

It was an old memory, the two were walking through Diagon Ally and Draco, about twelve or thirteen, was sulking as he followed Lucius through the snowy streets.

_"Did you hear me, father?" a little voice asked dejectedly. _

_"Yes, yes of course I did," Lucius mumbled absent mindedly. _

_"Sure you did," Draco grumbled. "I got a 102% on my potions final," he repeated a bit louder, but again his father was deaf to the son beside him. _

_"Father," Draco whined, "I want that broomstick!" _

_Finally his father turned to look at him. _

_"Which one? That one on display?" Draco nodded. "Maybe for your birthday, I'm in a hurry." _

_"But father!" _

_Lucius ignored his son's begging and continued to lead him in silence. _

_"Father, I'm cold," Draco said after a while, and any passerby could see that the boy was in fact, very cold. Lucius had ushered him out of the manor so quickly that he hadn't taken the time to check if his son was properly dressed. Draco was donned in jeans wet from snow and a light robe, leaving his nose and cheeks a vibrant pink and his teeth chattering. _

_"Uh-huh," Lucius muttered. _

_Draco's numb feet tripped and he landed hands first into a pile of snow. Tears burned the boy's eyes and he was so miserable from the stinging cold that he remained in the snow, quietly crying as brought his pink, burning hands to his face to try and warm them. _

_It took Lucius a few steps to notice that his shadow wasn't following him. He whirled around to find his son sitting in a snow bank crying and blowing on his hands. _

_"What on earth are you doing?" he demanded._

_"I'm sitting in the snow because I'm cold and I'm wet and I don't want to keep walking!" Draco choked out. _

_"You wouldn't be cold and wet if you weren't sitting in the snow!" _

_"Father! Please, can we go home?"_

_"Saving Salazar, no! I asked if you wanted to come along and you said yes, so come along," Lucius retorted. _

_When Draco refused to move, Lucius yanked him to his feet and snapped, "Stop whimpering like you're a child! Come on, let's go."_

_"No, I'm cold, I'm wet, and I'm hungry!"_

_Lucius grabbed Draco behind the neck and leaned down to scold, "I do not care. I wouldn't care if you were shoeless and bald, I am your father and you'll do as I say, understand?" _

_Draco bit his lip. _

_Lucius tighten his grip and repeated, "Do you understand?"_

_"Yes, father."_

The memory was extinguished quickly, and one of the next day replaced it.

_Draco was curled up in his over-seized bed, staring at the beautifully wrapped package across his room. He knew what it was. That blasted broomstick he had said he'd wanted. Instead of feeling the rise of happiness he usually experienced at a new toy, he felt the fall of disappointment. Another toy. Another broomstick. Another gift. Another excuse to not hate his father. _

_Young Draco rolled onto his side so his back was to the gift and let out a deep cough. A few seconds later his mother swept into the room, tea in one hand and her wand in the other. _

_"Good morning, my darling," she said softly, sitting at the foot of his bed. Draco sneezed in response._

_"This is why you need to wear layers when you go outside, you'll get sick," she gently chided, stroking his warm forehead with soft fingers._

_"Yeah," he replied distantly. _

_"Let me get rid of your fever, sweetie. Lay your head on my lap."_

_Draco obliged, closing his eyes against the familiar but unsettling discontentment he felt towards his father. _

_"He should have bought you an extra cloak while you were out, maybe gotten some hot chocolate into you. Men," Narcissa chuckled quietly as she moved her wand rhythmically over Draco's blond head. _

_At her son's sullen silence, Narcissa pecked a kiss on Draco's hair and asked, "What's the matter, darling?"_

_"I don't want it," he answered glancing at the broom._

_"Don't be foolish, dear. Your father bought it for you." _

_After she left, Draco remained in his bed, staring at the broom and realizing for the first time the power his father held over him. _

It went dark. Draco opened his eyes to find himself on all fours on the marble floor. His aunt was scrutinizing him carefully, a slow, crooked smile beginning to stretch across her face.

"Oh, my. O-oh my," she chortled unpleasantly. "Boy, do you know what those memories told me?" She waited in vain for an answer then continued, "You hate your father. The man who created you! And you know the best part? You haven't even admitted it to yourself yet! I can feel it lurking in that shadow, the hate. I can feel it but I can't show it to you because you haven't giving that feeling life. You haven't thought it, or even allowed yourself to validate it. That's bloody hilarious!"

Draco looked wearily up to his aunt and gasped out, "You're mental. I do not hate my father, and you had no right to look at those memories!"

"I do not care how you feel about your _daddy. _It matters nothing to me. And when are you going to get through your thick skull: I do have the right. The Dark Lord instructed me to teach you, so teach you I shall. Does that make you angry? Upset?" she baited.

"Of course it does!" Draco roared, shifting so that he was kneeling. "Those are my thoughts, my memories! My head isn't some picture book to flip through!"

Bellatrix shrugged and said nonchalantly, "Then stop me, use Occlumency."

And then it started all over again.

The shadow that Bellatrix dove into next was a narrow, deep one. One hidden in the corner of his mind, he could feel his aunt hunting for it, struggling to find an entrance and then painfully squeezing through the small opening.

Draco tried his hardest to block her out, but it was like trying to answer a question that was never asked.

To his confusion, the memory that Bellatrix pulled out was of Hermione. He was shown the scene a few months back, him walking in a daze down a corridor, badly beaten.

_"Malfoy! Where were you last night?" the memory of Hermione shouted after him. When Draco ignored her lecturing, she continued, "I don't care if you can turn a bloody rock into a unicorn! You. Need. To. Do. Your. Detention! Honestly I-" _

_As her petite figure came right behind his taller, broader one, he spun around and shoved her against a nearby wall, his face set in quite rage as her doll eyes widened._

With a chuckle from his aunt, the memory changed.

_Hermione was studying Draco as he paced throughout the transfiguration classroom. She was going on about her theories on his rough condition. _

_"Nobody's safe. You know that the Dark Lord is back." Draco said in soft bitterness, and he lowered his eyes to meet Hermione's. The pair had a silent battle, not only against each other but between their inner selves as well. Suddenly Hermione turned her back and after a while offered him chocolate and tea._

Bellatrix retreated as if she'd been burnt. "You... You accepted food from a mudblood? Were you raised by centaurs? And why were you talking about the All Powerful Wizard to her? Were you trying to warn her? To save her?" Draco tried to interrupt and silence her ridiculous ranting, but she ignored him and plunged on, "Never in my years have a met anyone as dim witted as you! A mudblood! What were you thinking? Do you realize what this means to the Dark Lord?" Bellatrix was so agitated that she began to anxiously pace in front of Draco's bent frame, throwing her hands in the air, twisting her fingers around her wand and spitting every other word. She stopped abruptly and hissed, "You must be punished."

Draco lifted his head and snapped, "It was detention, Bella, it happens in school. I wouldn't dare dream of attempting to assist a mudblood, not only is it futile, it is disgusting! Surely you know that memories can be deceiving and that I'm loyal to my master, the wisest of them all? Do you not-"

"_Crucio_!"

Draco's sentence was lost in pain as his body collapsed on its self, organs crushed and bones piercing through his skin as his skin ripped and blood erupted. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't cry out… but he was crying out, wasn't he? There was an inhumane scream echoing distantly, and it certainly wasn't his aunt.

As abruptly as it started, the curse was lifted. Draco vomited and collapsed on the floor, curling into himself as he tried to breathe again.

Bellatix grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his face up so that he was looking in her eyes, which lighted with an excitement he'd never seen before. She was enjoying hurting him, he realized. "Block me out," she snarled.

She dove into Hermione's shadow again and rapidly flipped through the first few layers of memories; the night in the infantry with Hermione kneeling next to him as he sweated away his terror, her gentle fingers tracing through his memory. Her leaning over his shoulder as she pointed to line in his essay, her scent filling every corner. The day he gave her his quill and her awe at it.

Again, Draco tried to use Occlumency, but he was still recovering from the curse, and it was nearly impossible to focus on anything but the scenes forced from him.

It went black again, and Draco could feel the tension suffocate him. As he gathered his bearings, he realized that the scenes he had subconsciously tucked away told a completely different story than what had really happened.

Draco jerked up his head to see how his aunt was responding to the misleading fragments. His stomach sank as he saw wild disbelief and furious judgment etched throughout every line in her body.

Her lips gaped and snapped shut repeatedly until she thrust her wand towards Draco and shrieked a spell he did not recognize. A serpent, small and black, shot from her wand and wrapped itself around his wrist. Draco stared at it in bewilderment as it began to slither up his arm, its tail remaining on his hand, but its body stretching and growing as it crept upwards. At his shoulder, it stopped, and Draco glanced warily at it from the corner of his eye. Bellatrix seemed to encourage the snake with her intense stare.

"Bellatrix – Auntie – memories, they're fragmented! You didn't see the all the times I had my wand pointed at her, all the times I've ridiculed her. You don't really believe that I'd–"

He gasped as the snake began to burn, scorching a hole through his robe as it began to move again. It had grown a second body where it had burned him, causing Draco to panic.

"Auntie, stop! I am loyal! I have always been loyal! The Mighty One is my lord! I would not betray him!" he begged.

"You are a liar! A burden to the Dark Lord," Bellatrix bit out.

"No I-"

Two other snakes emerged from the first two, creating a burning net of black snakes coiling around his torso. He bit back an outcry of pain as the reptiles left burning blisters along his skin.

"Tell me about her!" she demanded, kneeling in front of Draco and grabbing his chin so that they were nearly nose to nose. "Look me in the eyes and tell me about her."

Draco squirmed against the snakes and her icy hand, but it was pointless.

He glared into her dark eyes and growled, "She's nothing. She's filthy and she's unnatural. Every breath she takes steals from you and me."

Bellatrix dug her nails into his jaw and tsked at him. "I've heard your father saw those exact words thousands of times, boy. I believe you're just mimicking him. I'll see. I'll find out for myself."

She removed the snakes with a flick of her wrist and invaded Draco's mind once more.

_Draco stood in Honeydukes, gazing at the isles overflowing with sweets. His eyes skimmed over Cauldron Cakes, Chocolate Frogs and Dancing Licorice, a small stirring of... something in his stomach. Sentiment, perhaps, or maybe just hunger. He tore his gaze from the tantalizing selections and looked around for Hermione, who had left his side and was musing over some jaw breakers with what looked like fists. A younger student stepped next to Hermione and stood on her tip-toes as she tried to reach a Fireball candy._

_Hermione looked down at the girl and smiled. "Would you like me to get you one?" she asked. The girl flushed and nodded shyly. _

"_Is there a specific one you prefer?"_

"_No, anyone is okay," the girl mumbled. _

_Hermione made a show of picking the largest, most red and perfectly round candy before handing it to the girl with another smile. "There you go, enjoy!"_

_Draco turned away from the Gryffindor and weaved his way through an isle hopping with Chocolate Frogs. He turned a corner and there was Hermione again, kneeling on the ground this time, helping two boys that had spilled their bags. _

The memory shifted attention from Hermione to Draco – probably at the will of Bellatrix.

_The memory of himself was standing among the frogs, a still figure in the midst of chaos, a slight scowl gracing his brow. However, his face held an odd expression, one of curiosity, confusion, and unknown longing. It startled present Draco. Did he really observe Granger for this long? Did he really look at her like that?_

He could feel the beginnings of Bellatrix's anger, and fear began to rise in him.

_Think Draco, think. You can prove to her that it's nothing._

Draco focused on remembering a memory on his own accord, but it was extremely difficult to do; it was like attempting to speak two different sentences at once.

Finally, he managed to shove down the Honeydukes memory and pull one up of his own.

_Hermione was pressed up against a ladder of dusty bookshelves in the Room of Requirement, her skin glowing in the soft, dim orange light. Her mouth was set in a serious frown, but her eyes flickered with unease and her slightly panting breath assaulted Draco as stepped up to her so that he was less than an arm's length away. He glared down at her, the silent threat over powering. _

_He menacingly raised his wand and grit his jaw, his fury emanating from him. Hermione thrust her wand protectively out in front of herself –._

"You think you can simply thwart my spell, you pathetic traitor? How dare you –"

"What the hell is your problem?" Draco shouted, standing up in agitation but regretting it when he felt how weak his knees were. "I did it, didn't I? I use Occlumency, so let me be!"

Bellatrix grabbed Draco by his shirt and growled, "That wasn't Occlumency, you foolish child. That was just thinking. _Block me out!_"

This time the memory was of Draco and Hermione walking along the store fronts.

_Hermione was shivering and kept recasting heating charms. Draco looked at her and said, "My mother used to say that sometimes the cold is more than just the weather, that sometimes the cold is a tangible object, an emotion, a person, or maybe circumstance. In that case, the cold seeps into your bones and you can't get warm unless you –" He stopped abruptly, alarmed at what he had almost shared. _Unless you have someone with enough love to share, then they can drive out the cold.

"_Unless you what?" Hermione asked, rubbing her arms in a desperate attempt to get warm._

"_I don't know, wear extra layers? Sit by the fire?" _

_Hermione sighed, and Draco glanced at her to find her teeth chattering. _

"_Here," he said emotionlessly, holding out the cloak he wasn't wearing._

Bellatrix left his mind and slapped him across the face so hard that it immediately left a red, hand-shaped welt. "You are disgusting! Worthless! An infidel!" She seized a fist-full of Draco's fine hair in her gnarled hand and flung him to the side. "I hope you burn in the fires of His wrath!" she screeched, swooping down to grab him firmly under his jaw. She dragged him up by her grip, causing Draco to wheeze for air. She brought his face so that their noses were crushed together and her acidic breath assaulted him. "Get out of here before I do you something the Dark Lord wouldn't want me to," she growled before tossing him back to the ground.

She spun around and stormed out of the room shouting over her shoulder as she went, "I'll collect you soon for our next lesson, unless the Dark Lord is as disgusted by you as I am."

Draco lay on the floor and tried to get his bearings. He was bruised and exhausted. After a few moments he gathered himself together and grabbed his satchel before Apparating back to Hogsmeade for the lonely walk to the castle.

* * *

Bellatrix needed to vent. That… that _scum_ of a boy! Never had she encountered such a crude mind – such a crude life – from a fellow Death Eater. To spend so much time with a mudblood… it was repulsive. Her master would definitely be hearing about it.

Swaggering through the hallways of the manor, Bellatrix cursed and hissed to herself. How she hoped the Dark Lord would choose her to exterminate the boy! Until that was decided, however, she needed something to settle her down.

Thinking a spot of liquor would do her riled self some good, she went to the kitchen for some whiskey, but decided against it.

She changed her course to her sister's room and knocked on the door, bursting in before pausing for an answer.

Narssica was staring out of her window, her face void of any human emotion. Bella let out a cackle of a giggle. "Oi, Cissa, did you hear the shouts?"

"I always do," Narssica said dully, not turning to look.

Bellatrix smiled and said, "I'm glad to hear it."

Narssica didn't reply, but Bellatrix did not care. Simply knowing that her dear sister had heard the shouts and pleas of the son she was so desperately missing without knowing it soothed her upset mindset.

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, a commotion was erupting.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter title from Woody Allen, "Life if full of misery, lonliness, and suffering - and it's all over much too soon." **Today is my birthday! Anyways, that was pretty tough to write, did I do okay?**


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